


that's the day i knew you were my pet

by littlemissmeggie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And maybe a tiny touch of angst, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex Toys, Strangers to Lovers, Top!Harry, Wedding Fluff, bottom!Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissmeggie/pseuds/littlemissmeggie
Summary: “Why don’t you make a listing, like, on Craigslist?” said Louis.“What?” asked Niall. “A listing for what?”“A fake boyfriend,” Louis told him, shrugging and taking a sip of his beer. “Like, ‘Looking for someone to pretend to be my boyfriend at a wedding in Dublin on the twenty-first of October.’”“Yeah. That’s not weird at all,” said Niall, rolling his eyes, sarcasm heavy in his tone.“It could work though,” said Liam, considering Louis’ idea.“You’re both off your nuts if ya think I’m going to make a personal advert looking for a fake boyfriend.” He frowned. “Ya know how pathetic and desperate that sounds?”or...Niall's family expected him to bring a date to his cousin's wedding. Unlucky in love but unwilling to admit defeat and go back to Dublin alone, Niall posted on Craigslist looking for a fake boyfriend. An eccentric lad named Harry answered his advert. They spent the weekend together, giving a convincing performance as boyfriends, and both boys became a little confused about what was pretend and what was real.





	that's the day i knew you were my pet

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely friend Cat who read everything from the handwritten outline for this story back in September to every last word in the Google doc. She helped me more than I think she realised! 
> 
> And thank you to my friend Sarah who gave me the idea for this fic and was the most vocal, supportive cheerleader I could ask for. 
> 
>  
> 
> The title is from the 1959 song "Sea of Love" by Phil Phillips.

Niall stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the sixth floor before refiling through the small stack of mail in his hands. It was mostly rubbish, he noted, utility bills that were redundant because he also received paperless invoices and a few flyers advertising a new Indian takeaway three blocks away and the public library’s book sale fundraiser.

The last letter was decidedly too posh to be a bill or from some organisation looking for a donation; the envelope was a heavy, cream-coloured parchment with his name— _Mister Niall James Horan and Guest—_ and address calligraphed in beautiful, flowing writing.

The lift doors opened and he stepped off, turning to walk down the hallway to the door to his flat. He returned his attention to the envelope, flipping it over to look for a return address. Written on the back flap in the same lovely handwriting was Niall’s aunt and uncle’s names and address in Mullingar.

Niall furrowed his eyebrows, trying to think what his aunt and uncle might be sending him; the envelope was far too fancy and the address much too formal to just be a birthday card.

As Niall tucked his mail under his arm and pulled out the key to unlock his door, he remembered the sweet little card he’d received a few months earlier—pretty watercolour roses and a short note asking him to save the date and telling him a formal invitation would follow—and realised this must be the formal invitation to his cousin Emma’s wedding.

He walked through the door and dropped the mail down onto the small table just inside. The invitation was on the top of the stack and he looked at it again. _Mister Niall James Horan and Guest._

And guest.

Was he expected to bring a guest? He didn’t have anyone to be his plus-one. He’d been out on a few dates recently but nothing had come out of them; the lad had been nice enough—not to mention ridiculously attractive—but he’d been rather reserved and quiet and a bit too serious for Niall’s liking.

He sighed and walked into his small kitchen, finding a bottle of beer and popping the top off before taking a long swig.

He’d call his dad, he decided, and tell him that he didn’t have a guest to bring to the wedding so nobody had better get their hopes up.

Niall picked up his phone and opened his favourites list, scrolling down and tapping his father’s name. He sat down at the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room and waited for Bobby to answer.

“Hi, Niall,” he heard after a few rings.

“Bobby!” said Niall. “How are ya?”

“Good,” answered Bobby. “Been hotter than Hell the last few days. Had Theo over yesterday running round playing footie with ‘im. Sweat me bollocks off.”

“Yeah, it’s been hot here too,” Niall told him. “The Underground gets proper disgusting.”

The two talked for a bit longer before Niall said, “I got my invitation today. To Emma’s wedding.”

“Oh, yeah. Got ours a couple days ago,” said Bobby. “You’ll be able to make it, won’t you? Everyone’d—”

“Yeah, no, o’ course I’ll be there,” Niall assured him. “Just- It’s addressed to Mr Niall James Horan _and Guest_.”

“Reckon your mum told your aunt about your boyfriend.”

“My- Told my aunt- What?”

“Told your mum you’ve got a boyfriend, yeah?” asked Bobby, sounding a little surprised by Niall’s reaction. “Some lad called Zayn?”

Niall groaned.

“Niall?”

“I’ve- _Fuck_ ,” sighed Niall. “Every fucking time I talk to Ma, she asks me if I’ve got a boyfriend yet. So I told her I was seeing this guy Zayn.”

“But you’re not,” Bobby surmised.

“I was,” Niall told him. “We went out a few times, ya know, but he just wasn’t- We didn’t hit it off.”

“Why not?” asked Bobby.

“Christ, when’d ya turn into Ma?” asked Niall, a little short.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, Da. I’m sorry,” said Niall with a small sigh. “Just- He was kind of- Louis said he was ‘aloof.’ Like, took days to respond to me texts sometimes and just didn’t seem interested in what I was saying half the time. But not, like, rude. Just reserved or something. To be honest, I don’t even really know what he _was_ interested in because he didn’t talk much.”

“Just tell your mum ya broke it off with ‘im,” said Bobby gently. “And send back that response card with only your name on it.”

Niall agreed but spent the next few days trying to ignore the unopened invitation that sat on his breakfast bar. He knew Bobby was right, that he should just send the response back without a guest, but it felt too much like a reminder that Niall seemed to exist in a constant cycle of failed relationships.

It was on the third day after Niall received the invitation in the mail that he got a phone call from his mother.

“Have you sent your aunt the response card yet, love?” asked Maura.

Niall sighed quietly. He knew the conversation would turn to the wedding invitation soon. “Not yet, Ma.”

“Well, do it soon. It’ll only take a tick,” she said. “And make sure you put Zayn’s full name so they can make up a place card and favour for him.”

“ _Zayn_ ,” he muttered to himself. “Yeah, Ma—”

“He is coming, isn’t he?” said Maura. “We’re all looking forward to meeting your boyfriend, love.”

“Ma”—Niall inhaled deeply and thought of Bobby’s advice—“I broke it off with Zayn. We didn’t work out. We really had nothing in common and we just didn’t hit it off.”

“Niall, you’re almost twenty-four now. You’d better hit it off with someone or—”

“Or _what_ exactly, Ma?” asked Niall, frustrated now. “Like, what’s it matter if I don’t have a boyfriend until I’m thirty? Or what if I never have a boyfriend? Why does it matter?”

“We all just want you to be happy, love,” said Maura placatingly. “That’s all.”

“How do you know that I’ll be happy if I have a boyfriend?” Niall fired back, still upset. “How do you know I’m not happy now?”

There was a pause and Niall could tell that his mother was thinking, that maybe she hadn’t considered that possibility before. “Are you- are you happy now?” she asked quietly.

Niall exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself a bit while he thought of his answer. He wasn’t depressed or lonely—he had friends and a decent social life, had coworkers he liked and hung out with after work sometimes, had his five-a-side football league—but he did want a boyfriend.

He wanted someone to wake up next to on a Sunday morning, his chest pressed to their back while he woke them up with small kisses, and go to brunch with him. He wanted someone to come to his footie matches to cheer him on and greet him with a hug and kiss when he came off the field, sweaty and hot; Louis usually came and sometimes Liam showed up after work but neither of them greeted him with a kiss, which would probably be a bit weird since both were straight and had girlfriends. He wanted to plan surprise picnics at Vicky Park and lie with his head in someone’s lap while they watched the clouds float overhead.

He wanted a lot that he didn’t have, he realised.

“No,” he finally answered his mother, quiet and a little choked. “No. I want someone to hold my hand.”

“Oh, love,” sighed Maura. “You’ll find him someday.”

Niall knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. Even if his mum left the subject alone for a while, he knew she would start nagging him again eventually.

And he knew his aunt well enough to know that if he sent that response card back with only himself and no guest, she would have no reservations about calling him up to tell him he needed to get a move on if he didn’t want to be single forever.

When he expressed his concern to Louis and Liam the next night while they sat at the pub drinking pints and eating greasy nachos, he was offered a suggestion he would never have thought of on his own.

“Why don’t you make a listing, like, on Craigslist?” said Louis.

“What?” asked Niall. “A listing for what?”

“A fake boyfriend,” Louis told him, shrugging and taking a sip of his beer. “Like, ‘ _Looking for someone to pretend to be my boyfriend at a wedding in Dublin on the twenty-first of October._ ’”

“Yeah. That’s not weird at all,” said Niall, rolling his eyes, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

“It could work though,” said Liam, considering Louis’ idea. “Some guy in Dublin looking for good craic. Sees an offer of free alcohol and food and thinks, ‘Sure. Sounds like a proper party.’”

“Put a picture”—Louis paused and looked at Liam—“You can post pictures, yeah?”

“Probably. I’ve never searched the personals—”

“Put a picture where you look sweet and boyfriend-y—”

“Boyfriend-y?” asked Niall.

“All soft, like you’re ready for a cuddle,” explained Liam.

“El always says you look like a perfect boyfriend,” added Louis. “Doesn’t know how you’re still single.”

“Yeah, right. Great,” said Niall. “You’re both off your nuts if ya think I’m going to make a personal advert looking for a fake boyfriend.” He frowned. “Ya know how pathetic and desperate that sounds?”

“Worth a shot,” said Louis, defending his idea. “If you get no responses, just take the post down.”

Niall dismissed the idea because, although he _was_ desperate, he didn’t think he was ready to stoop that low.

But as one week became two and the invitation still sat unopened on his counter, Niall knew he would either have to send the response card back with only his name and meal choice or try to find someone to be his “boyfriend” for the evening. Really, he thought, he had to admit defeat one way or another.

Seventeen days after he got the invitation, he received a text message from his cousin Emma. _Hi Ni! Hope you’ll be able to come to the wedding. I’m really looking forward to seeing you and meeting your boyfriend!_

 _Yup! Just waiting to figure out about the boyfriend._ It wasn’t really a lie, he thought as he tapped the blue arrow. He knew now what he had to do; if Emma was excited to meet his boyfriend, he would bring her a boyfriend to meet.

Fake or not.

Her response came quickly. _Great! I’ll put you down for two. Just send the card back with your meal choices and stuff once you know._

Niall sighed and leant forward to grab his laptop from the coffee table. He opened the computer and brought up Craigslist. He found the link to post a classified and scrolled down. He chose personal/romance, clicked continue, and then stared at the screen. There were five choices and he didn’t know which to choose; he could eliminate _missed connection_ and _rants and raves_ but that still left three options.

He took his phone from where it laid next to him on the back cushion of the sofa. He found Louis in his favourites list in his contacts and tapped his name, pressing his phone to his ear and waiting for his friend to answer.

After a few rings, Louis answered. “What’s up, Nialler?”

“What do I choose?” asked Niall.

“What do you choose what?”

“Do I choose ‘strictly platonic’ or ‘dating and romance’ or ‘casual encounters’?” he asked, reading the remaining three options to Louis.

“I don’t- Are you making a personal advert?” He sounded bemused.

“Yes, and I don’t know what to put.” He chewed his lip for a few seconds and then continued. “I’m not really looking for a long-term relationship. I mean, I am but not with an advert on Craigslist. And, like, it’s non-romantic and non-sexual because I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea but I do want them to pretend to be my boyfriend so that’s sort of romantic, I guess.”

“What’s the last choice again?” asked Louis.

“‘Casual encounters. No strings attached,’” answered Niall. “But casual encounters makes it sound like- It sounds like I’m looking for a hookup or a one-night fling or something- something just sexual. But I’m not.”

“I don’t know, mate,” said Louis. “Can you- Maybe do all three?”

“Yeah,” said Niall because _why not_. He clicked the bubble next to _strictly platonic_ and then the bubble next to _dating/romance (long-term relationship)_ ; the bubble beside _strictly platonic_ deselected. “No,” he groaned. “I can only choose one.”

“Maybe- Do they all show up in the same list anyway?” asked Louis. “Like, if you go to the personals and then choose ‘men seeking men,’ do they all just go into the same list and you have to, like, sort through them?”

“Yeah, maybe,” agreed Niall. “I’ll start with”—he clicked _strictly platonic_ —“Okay, so. I am… a man… seeking… a man.” He pressed continue and was given a form to fill out. Again, he stared blankly at the screen. “What do I say?”

In the end, he said almost exactly what Louis had suggested nearly two weeks earlier— _Looking for a plus-one for a wedding in Dublin on 21 October—_ and explained that his family thought he had a boyfriend but he didn’t and they were expecting him to show up at the wedding with a date. There would be no pay, he made sure to clarify, just free dinner and drinks for the evening. At Louis’ insistence, he’d included a picture of himself; he chose the one Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor had suggested, telling him he looked soft, handsome, and sweet in it, his eyes so blue and his brown hair mussed and streaked with blond, his smile kind and inviting.

“Right, lad, now just contact anyone who responds and try to find out if they’re normal or—”

“Lou, none of them are going to be normal. You didn’t see any of those other adverts,” he told his friend. “‘Expert cocksucker,’ ‘Hungry hole looking for giant dick,’ ‘Cumslut hungry for cum every day,’ ‘Pound my’—”

“Oi! Lad!” exclaimed Louis, effectively quieting Niall. “I get it! Just see if they’re fucking nutters or not.”

Niall didn’t really expect any responses, though, so his worry that everyone who responded would be weird was out of his mind before he even went to bed a few hours later.

Niall was surprised when he found four responses in his email the next morning, though the surprise wore off quickly when he actually opened the emails.

The first was from a fifty-year-old man who told Niall he could be his Daddy and said that Niall looked like the perfect little sub. Niall considered replying with a polite message explaining that he was really looking for someone his own age but finally just deleted the email.  

The second was from someone who seemed to think that Niall’s offer of free dinner, drinks, dancing, and music included another type of free entertainment that Niall certainly hadn’t meant.

The third had a picture of, Niall had to admit, a very fit guy with a simple message that said _DTF_ —Niall correctly guessed that it meant “down to fuck”—and mentioned that his apartment wasn’t far from Dublin City Centre. Niall sent both of them messages thanking them for their response but that he was really just looking for a date to the wedding and nothing more.

The fourth email consisted only of dick pictures and Niall immediately deleted it.

Niall got a few more responses over the next week, most of them similar to the first few, though he fortunately received no more inappropriate pictures or offers from anyone who felt they could be Niall’s Daddy. One was looking for monetary compensation for his services and another seemed relatively normal but was thirty-six.

There was one response that made Niall hopeful; the lad was twenty-five and thought a night of free drinks and dancing sounded like a good time. He was upset to find, however, that Niall didn’t live in Dublin and would only be in Ireland for a long weekend because he’d hoped that maybe the date would lead to a friendship and possibly something more in the future. Niall apologised that he’d not mentioned that he was really only looking for a single date in his original post; he received no further messages from the boy.

Two weeks before the wedding, Niall realised he needed to book his flights to and from Ireland. He also knew that he really ought to send back his response card because, at this point, it wasn’t just rude but could potentially be an inconvenience for the caterers.

He found a seat on a flight that would get him into Dublin just before noon the day before the wedding; he could check into the room his aunt and uncle had reserved for him at the hotel near the wedding venue where guests from out of town would be staying.

Before he went to sleep that night, Niall checked his email, not really expecting anything but doing it out of newly-developed habit.

Niall was surprised to find a new response. He opened it and began to read the message.

The lad was twenty-three and lived in London but was willing to travel—“I’ve wanted to take a trip to Dublin for ages but haven’t had a chance!”—and thought that a wedding in Ireland seemed like “‘good craic,’ as the Irish say!”

Niall wondered briefly why this guy from London was searching the men seeking men personal adverts in Dublin but pushed the thought aside for the time being and decided to contact him; he was the first person to include his name and mobile number in his response and Niall found that oddly comforting and slightly promising.

 _Hi Harry. My name is Niall. I’m the guy who posted on Craigslist. Looking for a date to a wedding in Dublin_.

Harry’s reply came quickly, Niall thought, especially considering it was well past midnight. _Hey Niall! Nice to “meet” you haha!_

Niall rolled his eyes but sent him another text. _Yeah nice to meet you too._

He wasn’t really sure what else to say but before he could think about it too much, he got a text. _So you need a fake boyfriend? lol_

Niall didn’t really think the situation was funny but answered the question anyway. _Yeah. My family keeps nagging me and long story short, half of them think I have a boyfriend._ He sent the message and then followed it with another. _I thought I’d just say I broke up with him or something but then my cousin who’s getting married was excited to meet my boyfriend and I don’t want to disappoint her._

 _Entrez-moi!_ read Harry’s response. _Hopefully lol_

Niall bit his lip while he considered how he should reply.

 _Why were you looking at the personal adverts in Dublin?_ asked Niall, his curiosity getting the better of him.

_Oh yeah. Prob sounds weird but I’ve wanted to go to Dublin for a while like I said. I was thinking maybe i could make a friend in Dublin and then when I finally go, I’ll have someone to show me around. And maybe a free place to stay haha_

Niall thought that seemed like a far better and more normal reason to search the personal adverts than looking for a glory hole or a thick uncut cock did.

 _Doesn’t sound too weird tbh_ , Niall told Harry.

Niall and Harry texted for a bit longer that night. Harry asked if Niall was interested in having him as his fake boyfriend and Niall considered the situation; after rereading all of Harry’s texts, he decided Harry seemed reasonably normal—he hadn’t once mentioned that he was _DTF_ or that Niall seemed like a lovely little sub, hadn’t mentioned sex once—and was pleasant enough to talk to, even if he seemed a little eccentric. Niall said yes, he would like that, and asked if Harry would be able to pay his own travel expenses. Harry said he could but asked Niall if he had a place for him to crash or could recommend somewhere to stay.

Niall told Harry that he also lived in London but was travelling to Dublin for the wedding and was staying in a hotel room his aunt and uncle already had reserved. He offered to let Harry stay with him, apologizing that they’d only booked one room for him and his “boyfriend.”

 _Probably because they assume you and your boyfriend sleep together anyway lol_ , Harry pointed out. _Don’t think it’ll be too much of a hardship, sharing a room with you. You’re cute!_

Before they said goodnight at around two o’clock, Niall told Harry which flight he was taking from London Gatwick and suggested that he try to get a seat on the same plane.

While Niall was sitting at his counter drinking his tea and eating a bowl of cereal the next morning, he saw the unopened invitation. He opened the envelope and pulled out the invitation, reading it through and finding the little response card with its return envelope.

He grabbed his phone and sent Harry a text. _What’s your surname? And do you want beef tenderloin, salmon or coq au vin?_

_Ooooh coq au vin please! How fancy! and it’s Styles_

Niall wrote his name and then Harry’s before checking off beef tenderloin for himself and coq au vin for Harry.

 _I suppose I should know a little about you if I’m gonna be your fake boyfriend… haha_ , Harry messaged Niall one night a few days later.

Niall supposed Harry was right and, over the next week and a half, they exchanged the occasional text.

Niall learnt that Harry had moved to London a year and a half earlier after graduating from Manchester Metropolitan University with a BA in Fashion Buying and Merchandising and worked for Gucci. He told terrible jokes and had a bad pun for everything but Niall still chuckled whenever he read Harry’s texts.

Niall told Harry that he worked as a Broadcast Engineer for BBC Radio 1; he’d received a coveted broadcast engineering apprenticeship at the BBC Academy after completing his A-levels and had moved from Ireland to London at the age of eighteen to work toward an Honours degree. He loved music and played footie in a five-a-side league.

Niall had to admit that, as much as he’d been opposed to the idea of finding a fake boyfriend, he was looking forward to meeting Harry. He seemed nice, had a good sense of humour, and was interesting enough that Niall didn’t think it would be a boring struggle to spend a weekend with the lad.

The night before Niall left for Ireland, he got a phone call from his mother.

“You’re bringing a date to the wedding,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” agreed Niall.

“You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone!” she said, sounding far too happy for Niall’s liking.

“Yeah, Ma. I… didn’t want to jinx it,” he lied, hoping Maura would believe his excuse and not ask too many more questions.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Harry.”

“Well go on!” prompted Maura, trying to learn more about her son’s date.

“He’s a nice lad and he’s funny,” Niall said. “Why don’t you just wait to meet him?” He hoped it seemed more like a suggestion and less like he was trying to put an end to the topic.

“All right,” agreed Maura. “Are you flying together?”

“No,” said Niall. “We couldn’t get seats on the same flight. He’s landing flight after mine though so we’ll just meet at the airport and head to the hotel to check in.”

“Have a good flight, love, and we’ll see you and Harry on Saturday,” said Maura a bit later.

“Love ya, Ma. See ya soon,” said Niall before ending the call.

Niall woke up early the next morning feeling a little nervous—he supposed that made sense, sort of like nerves before a first date—and finished packing his bag for the weekend. He drank a cup of tea and ate some plain toast, hoping to settle the nervous excitement bubbling in his tummy, and chuckled at himself; only a few weeks earlier, he’d been adamantly against finding a fake boyfriend and now he was excited to meet the boy who would be playing the part for the weekend.

Double-checking that he’d packed his new suit and dress shoes and making sure he’d taken his trash down to the bin, Niall locked up his flat and headed to the Bethnal Green rail station to make the journey to Gatwick.

Niall arrived at the airport early enough to check his bag and enjoy a bacon buttie and a cup of coffee at Jamie’s Diner before he had to board his flight.

Finally in his seat, Niall sent Harry a short text before turning his phone off— _Just boarded the plane. See you in a few hours!_

An hour and a half later, Niall landed in Dublin. He turned his phone on and found several messages from Harry.

 _Have a safe flight! Can’t wait to finally meet you! xx_ , read the first. It was followed, according to the time stamp next to the message, seventeen minutes later. _I think this girl next to me is trying to chat me up. I could use my fake boyfriend right now lol!_

Three minutes later, a slew of messages was sent rapid-fire. _I’m just going to send you some messages so maybe she’ll get the hint._

 _Any plans for tonight love?_ he asked. _We should go out my treat. Drinks on me or something,_ he suggested. And then, _She just asked who I was texting and i said my boyfriend. We’re fake relationship official now! Haha_

Niall rolled his eyes but chuckled to himself. Harry’s flight was set to land in only twenty-five minutes, he realised, and they were planning to meet at baggage claim. He set off, stopping to use the toilet and then buy two hot chocolates at Butlers Chocolate Cafe because it was the best hot chocolate he’d ever had; he didn’t know if Harry liked hot chocolate but figured that he could drink it if Harry didn’t want it.

When he arrived at baggage claim, he sent Harry a message to let him know he was waiting.

Harry texted him about ten minutes later, telling him he was on his way.

“Niall?” he heard a voice say a few minutes later.

He looked up and saw standing right in front of him a tall, lean lad with short wavy brown hair, an angular jawline and sharp cheekbones, a prominent nose, and full lips. He was wearing a black cardigan with the planets knitted in bright colours across the chest—it looked expensive though a bit childish, Niall thought, but he loved space and found it oddly endearing—and black skinny jeans with brown boots.

“Harry?” he asked.

“Yup!” the boy responded, holding his arms out to his sides. “Fake boyfriend at your service!”

“When you said you work for Gucci, I didn’t realise you meant you’re a model,” said Niall, blurting out his thought before his brain could stop it from tumbling from his lips.

Harry’s eyes crinkled up as he laughed, a huge smile on his face, and Niall decided he liked Harry’s laugh.

“I’m not a model!” said Harry after a few moments. “I work as a junior designer scout in Buying and Sourcing.”

“Okay,” said Niall, blinking away his lingering surprise that Harry was so very attractive. “Well, I just- I wasn’t expecting you to be”—Niall blushed—“like, to be so gorgeous.”

Harry’s smile grew impossibly bigger, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks, and Niall noticed his two front teeth were rather large. It didn’t make him any less attractive though.

“Thanks, Niall,” said Harry, still grinning. “You’re really handsome, you know. In, like, the softest way.” Harry gave Niall an appraising look, eyes wandering from his face down to his feet and then back up to his face. “You’re even cuter in person and I already thought you were the cutest lad I’d ever seen in that picture.”

Niall blushed again and looked down awkwardly. “Thanks,” he mumbled, cheeks burning a rosy pink from Harry’s compliments.

“You’re even more adorable when you blush, _God_!” said Harry, sounding delighted.

Niall was quiet for a few more moments, head tilted to the side and eyes still cast downward. He finally looked back up at Harry, who was looking at him with so much fondness that he felt his stomach lurch—love at first sight wasn’t a real thing, Niall had always been sure, but the way Harry was looking at him made him question that—and reached out to hand the other lad a cup of hot chocolate.

“Hot chocolate,” he said. “From Butlers. It’s me favourite.”

Harry turned to Niall and grinned a crooked smile. “You bought me a hot chocolate?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if you like hot chocolate so don’t feel bad if you don’t want—”

“Thanks, kitten,” said Harry, smiling still, and Niall felt his tummy do another little flip. “I love hot chocolate,” he assured the boy, long fingers brushing Niall’s as he took the paper cup. “Are there people who don’t like hot chocolate?” he continued, taking a sip, and Niall shrugged. “I don’t think I even want to know people who don’t like hot chocolate,” Harry added contemplatively, eyebrows furrowed. Niall laughed.

“So, um, to- to the hotel?” asked Niall.

“Suppose we should get our luggage first, yeah?” said Harry.

Niall blushed again, flustered—had Harry really needed to call him kitten?—and said quietly, “Oh. Yeah. That’d- that’d probably be good. Right.”

“Hey, Niall,” said Harry gently, reaching out with his free hand to grab Niall’s wrist, “I’m sorry if I made you- if you feel uncomfortable now. Like, because I said I thought you were the cutest lad I’d ever seen.”

Niall shook his head quickly. “Not- You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” Niall told Harry shyly. “Just… nobody’s ever said that before.”

“That’s dumb,” said Harry seriously. “Someone should tell you that every day.”

Niall looked at Harry, unsure what to say. He blinked. Voice barely above a whisper, he said, “You called me kitten.”

“I- Yeah. Shit,” sighed Harry, releasing Niall’s wrist from his grasp. “I’m sorry, Niall. I—”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Niall quietly. “It just”—he shrugged—“Never been called kitten before.” He blushed.

“Ohh, Niall,” cooed Harry, clearly delighted again by the new blush that was painting Niall’s cheeks. “I think I’ve found your pet name for the weekend!”

Niall gave a bashful smile and half-rolled his eyes, amused and a little embarrassed. “Luggage?” he asked.

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, walking with Niall to the baggage carousel.

Niall found his luggage, a simple black bag with an Irish flag ribbon tied around the handle, and stood beside Harry while the taller lad waited for his.

Just when Niall was about to ask Harry what his suitcase looked like so he could help look for it, Harry reached forward and grabbed a brown and beige bag that was covered in embroidered appliqués—a cartoon cat, a UFO, some clouds, a patch that said HES, and a planet that Niall thought was supposed to be Saturn—and little Gs.

“O’ course,” said Niall, chuckling lightly. “Gucci.”

“Well, yeah,” said Harry, unabashed. “I found the artist who designed half of these appliqués.”

“Really?” asked Niall, a little impressed.

Harry nodded. “That’s my job.”

Niall looked at Harry. “Your suit doesn’t have the solar system, like, made of sequins all over it, does it?”

“No,” said Harry seriously, as though the suggestion wasn’t completely absurd, and then added, “That's a good idea.” Niall looked at Harry incredulously. “It’s got Donald Duck on it though.”

Niall’s mouth fell open in shock. “It doesn’t,” he said, horrified.

“No,” Harry told him, smiling. “I left that at home. Thought it might be too much at a wedding.”

“But you really have a suit with Donald Duck on it?”

“Yup.”

“Did you find that designer too?” asked Niall as they walked toward the exit.

“No. A senior resident designer found an old pattern from the nineties in the design vaults and added Donald Duck.”

“Why?” wondered Niall, confused.

Harry laughed. “Fashion, kitten.”

They found their way to the Aircoach, getting off at O’Connell Street in front of The Gresham Hotel.

“We’re a little too early for check-in,” Niall told Harry as they stepped off the bus and collected their luggage. “Lunch?”

“Lead the way, love,” said Harry.

Niall turned away from the street and looked up O’Connell Street, checking to make sure Harry was following him. “Is a burger fine? Could go the old standard route, get lunch at Madigan’s.”

Harry walked beside Niall up the street. “The old standard sounds good,” said Harry. “What’s Madigan’s?”

“Just a pub but it’s got good food and it’s cheap. It’s where me family always ate whenever we came into Dublin,” Niall told him. “And it’s right next door.”

Niall led the way into the pub, choosing a table near the window with a nice view onto O’Connell Street. They ate a casual lunch—Guinness cottage pie for Niall and the Irish lamb stew for Harry—and chatted for a while.

Niall told Harry about his family, telling him everything he thought might be important for Harry to know when he met them the next day. Harry was excited, thrilled to be attending a “real Irish wedding,” and couldn’t wait to meet everyone.

“Nobody will make me drink whiskey, will they?” asked Harry as they finished their brownie and apple pie.

“Everyone’ll offer ya whiskey, o’ course,” Niall said. “Probably they’ll give you off looks if you say no. But nobody’ll _make_ ya drink it.”

“Whiskey gets me _so_ drunk,” Harry informed him with a grimace.

Niall laughed. “Are you a lightweight, Gucci?”

Harry huffed. “No,” he said defensively.

“We’ll see!”

Harry groaned and paid the check despite Niall’s protests that he pay for his own meal.

“You bought me a hot chocolate at the airport,” Harry reminded him.

“That only cost two euro!” argued Niall as they picked up their bags and left the restaurant, thanking the barkeeper on their way out.

“Doesn’t matter, kitten,” said Harry as he followed Niall out the door. “My treat.”

“Well, thank you,” grumbled Niall, sounding put-upon. He led them back to The Gresham.

“Taking the bus again?” asked Harry as they neared the hotel and the bus stop in front.

“No,” said Niall, turning to walk toward the hotel’s main entrance. “We’re checking in.”

“We’re staying _here_?” Harry looked up at the impressive stone front of the building, mouth open and eyes wide.

“Yeah,” said Niall, continuing through the doors and into the lobby. “I don’t think the rooms are as posh as the outside though.”

Harry shrugged and walked with Niall to the reception desk. Even if the rooms weren’t as posh as the front of the building indicated, he doubted they would be uncomfortable or dirty.

Ten minutes later, Niall swiped the key card at the door of their room—a Deluxe Superior Queen, the receptionist had told them—and they stepped in.

“Pretty posh,” said Harry, looking around the room at the modern furniture and decor and the big bed covered with nice linens.

Niall nodded his agreement.

“So,” said Harry, dropping his suitcase to the floor and kicking off his shoes, “which side?”

“Which side?” asked Niall, looking at Harry with slight confusion on his face. He placed his own bag at the foot of the bed.

“Which side of the bed, kitten?” said Harry.

“Oh.” Niall looked at the bed. “This”—he pointed to the side of the bed closer to the window—“this side. If that’s all right.”

“Of course it’s all right, kitten,” said Harry, smiling at Niall and moving to sit at the end of the bed. “Now why don’t we take a little nap and when we wake up, we can go down for afternoon tea because the girl at reception said it’s included in our room and it’s just too twee to pass up.”

Niall sat down beside Harry on the bed and gave him a fond smile. He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Harry, a smirk on his face.

“Like- like what?” asked Niall, nonplussed.

Harry paused, studying Niall’s face. “Like I’m a silly twit for wanting to go to afternoon tea,” Harry finally told him, because he didn’t want to tell Niall that he was looking at him with the same fondness he already felt for Niall.

“You are,” said Niall, smiling and bumping his shoulder against Harry’s, “but we can still go.”

Harry bumped Niall back and grinned, happy because he really did want to go to afternoon tea, and said, “Good. Now nap, kitten.”

The two boys lay down, Harry cuddling up and Niall stretching out, each on their designated side of the bed and careful not to cuddle too close together.

Niall didn’t remember falling asleep but he was woken up by Harry about forty-five minutes later.

“Niall!” came Harry’s voice, thick with sleep. “Niall, wake up! It’s time for tea!”

Niall opened his eyes and turned his head on the pillow, finding Harry sitting up on the mattress next to him. He looked excited, as eager as a child waiting to see their gifts from Santa on Christmas morning, and Niall felt his tummy flip again.

“It’s kind of adorable how excited you are for afternoon tea,” Niall told him, pushing himself up onto his elbows and stretching his back.

“When was the last time you had proper afternoon tea in a posh hotel, Niall?” asked Harry seriously.

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Niall, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Never.”

Harry beamed. “Exactly!”

A half an hour later, Niall and Harry sat at a table in the Writers Lounge and Harry was in his glory.

Harry took a sip of his tea, green eyes wide over the rim of his teacup and pinkie finger raised away from the handle. Niall didn’t think Harry was being a pretentious prat though; he’d noticed in just the few hours since they’d met that Harry’s pinkies had a habit of sticking out from the rest of his fingers, another thing he found oddly endearing.

“Earl Grey is my favourite, Niall,” said Harry happily, placing his teacup on his saucer and looking at the boy.

“Mine too, yeah,” agreed Niall, taking a sip of his own tea and then selecting a smoked salmon and dill sandwich from the three-tier stand in the center of their table.

They made their way through their courses, enjoying the tiny tea sandwiches and scones with clotted cream and jam.

“I used to be a baker,” said Harry as he took a bite of his fruit tart.

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Harry, putting the rest of his kiwi custard tart into his mouth. “I worked in a bakery when I was sixteen.”

“Bet you ate a lot of pastry then,” said Niall, taking a bite of his éclair.

“Just the things that weren’t pretty enough to sell.”

Finished with tea, Harry and Niall headed back to their room.

“We should go shopping,” suggested Harry just as Niall flopped down on the bed with the television remote, ready to flip through the channels for a while.

Niall looked at him. “Shopping?”

“Let’s go to Grafton Street!” Harry looked excited again and Niall didn’t think he could refuse him anything when he looked that eager. “That’s where all of the shops are, yeah?”

Niall nodded. “I s’pose, yeah.”

“Please?” asked Harry, eyes wide and hopeful, pleading with Niall.

“I’m not much of a shopper,” admitted Niall.

“That’s okay,” said Harry, still eager. “We can just walk around. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate and we can hold hands and pretend we’re boyfriends.”

Niall laughed, a smile so bright and beautiful on his face that Harry was amazed nobody had ever told him how adorable he was before, and Harry joined in.

“S’pose we should practice before tomorrow, right?” said Niall once their laughs had finally died down.

Harry gave Niall a cheeky grin and said, mock seriousness in his voice, “It’s probably a good idea.”

“All right, lad,” said Niall, chuckling and standing up from the bed, “let’s get to Grafton Street.”

“Lad?” pouted Harry as they walked toward the door. “You get ‘kitten’ and I get ‘lad’?”

Niall gave another little laugh. “I’ll figure something out.”

They left the hotel and headed down O’Connell Street, passing The Spire.

“Someone told me, ‘If you never lose the River Liffey, you’ll never get lost,’” said Harry as they crossed the River Liffey on the O’Connell Bridge.

“A smart person, that,” Niall told him.

They turned onto Aston Quay and then Westmoreland, following a route Niall seemed to know well.

“There somewhere to get a good hot chocolate around here?” Harry asked Niall, slipping Niall’s hand into his own.

Niall tensed for a second, surprised that Harry had really meant they should hold hands, and then relaxed because it felt nice. “There’s a Butlers on Grafton,” he told Harry.

“Like what you got me at the airport?” asked Harry. He rubbed his thumb over Niall’s knuckles as though he’d sensed Niall’s surprise and wanted to put him at ease. Niall nodded and Harry added, “It was pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” said Niall, sounding slightly offended. “It’s me favourite.”

“Then I’d better get you another.” He squeezed Niall’s hand and gave him a little smile.

As they walked out of Butlers, two cups of hot chocolate in their hands, Niall asked Harry if he liked Thai. After learning that he did, he suggested they stop for dinner at a good Thai place they’d walked past on their way to Grafton Street.

“Do you mind if I pop into a few shops on the way back?”

“No,” said Niall, “but you work at Gucci. Don’t you get all the clothes you want with an employee discount or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” agreed Harry. “And sometimes the new designers I find make me custom stuff as sort of- as a thank you for bringing them to Gucci.”

“So why do you want to stop at, like, Tommy Hilfiger and Topman?” wondered Niall.

“It’s called research, Ni,” said Harry with a wink. He shrugged and added, “And Topman’s got the best skinny jeans.”

They enjoyed the rest of the evening, stopping into a few shops on their walk back along Grafton Street and eating pad thai, drunken noodles, and spring rolls in tapioca paper.

Back in their hotel room, Niall sat on the bed and found the television remote control.

“Ya want to watch a movie?” he asked Harry.

“Sure,” said Harry. “What?”

“Thinking we can check out Netflix,” Niall told him. “See what we find.”

“Sounds all right,” said Harry.

“Yeah?” Niall turned on the television and brought up Netflix.

Harry grabbed his suitcase and laid it on his side of the bed, undoing the latches and opening it up. “Just going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed,” he said to Niall.

“Yeh’ve not got some crazy silk pajamas or something, do ya?” wondered Niall, pausing his scrolling to look over at Harry. He tilted his head up slightly as though trying to peek into Harry’s luggage.

“No, I don’t,” Harry assured him. “I usually just sleep in my pants, at home, but I brought joggers in case you were uncomfortable—”

“Don’t mind if you want to if you’re fine with it,” Niall cut in. “I sleep in me pants too.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Harry said as he dug out his toothbrush, toothpaste, and face wash before disappearing to the bathroom.

Niall returned to his scrolling, searching Netflix for a good movie. He came across _Wedding Crashers_ and decided it seemed appropriate, telling Harry as much when he reappeared from the bathroom a few minutes later.

“Cool,” said Harry, pulling his shirt over his head and undoing the fly on his skinny jeans. He dragged the jeans down his long legs and kicked them off, leaving himself in only his tight boxers. “Suppose it is fitting. Except we’re not crashing.”

Niall didn’t want to stare but he found he couldn’t help it as his eyes moved up and down Harry’s long body, taking in his toned arms and chest and stomach and legs littered with tattoos.  

“Your turn, kitten,” said Harry with an amused smirk that showed he’d noticed Niall scanning his body from head to toe, climbing onto the bed and arranging his pillows behind his back.

“I think- I think I’ll just sleep in me joggers,” said Niall quietly, getting up and moving toward his suitcase.

“Oh,” said Harry, a little disappointed because he’d wanted to see Niall in only his pants, wanted to see the soft pale freckled skin he imagined was under Niall’s clothes. He didn’t want to push though because it seemed Niall was suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in just his pants. “Okay.”

Niall dug his toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, and a pair of soft blue joggers out of his suitcase. He turned and moved into the bathroom, giving Harry an embarrassed little half smile when he caught the boy’s eyes.

“I can wear joggers if you- if you’re uncomfortable with this,” said Harry when Niall returned from the bathroom a few minutes later wearing his joggers and a white tee.

“No,” said Niall, shaking his head. “I’m not- That’s not it.”

Harry looked at Niall, a mix of confusion and concern on his face. “What is it, kitten?”

Niall shook his head again. “Nothing.” He climbed onto the bed, settling back against the headboard.

Harry still looked at him, unsure. “Do you want me to put on my—”

“No, Harry, it’s fine,” said Niall, cutting the boy off. “Just, like, you look so good in your pants. All fit. And I… don’t.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Harry told him. “Bet you’re all fair and freckled and lovely.”

Niall blushed. “Fair and freckled, yeah,” he agreed. “Not lovely.”

“Bet you’re beautiful.”

“I’m not,” said Niall shyly and Harry decided not to argue the point anymore that night.

“We should watch _Pretty Women_ ,” declared Harry as Niall picked up the television remote. “ _That’s_ fitting,” he informed Niall. “I’m your pretty woman. Except you’re not paying me three thousand dollars.”

Niall laughed. “S’pose it is more fitting than _Wedding Crashers_.”

Harry smiled and bumped his shoulder against Niall’s. Niall smiled back and turned his attention to the television, searching Netflix for _Pretty Woman_.

“‘She rescues him right back,’” said Harry two hours later, grinning wide as Julia Roberts and Richard Gere kissed on the fire escape. He looked over at Niall and found the boy asleep, his white shirt rucked up. With a fond smile, he fought the urge to touch the soft pale flesh of his exposed tummy and instead covered Niall with the duvet.

“Good night, kitten,” he whispered, turning off the television and the lights before settling under the duvet on his own side of the bed.

Niall woke up the next morning, his chest against Harry’s back and face nuzzled in the warmth of Harry’s neck. His eyes opened slowly as he blinked away sleep, peaceful and relaxed and cozy.

“Hmm,” hummed Harry, still asleep and content in the dreamy softness of the morning.

Suddenly Niall was alert and realisation dawned on him. He moved his hand from where it rested on Harry’s hip and pushed back from the boy.

Niall’s movement seemed to wake Harry, who turned his head on the pillow, big green eyes blinking at Niall over his bare shoulder. “Niall, what?” he said drowsily, licking his lips. “What?” He blinked again, so slowly, and tried to focus his sleepy eyes on Niall.

“I’m sorry,” said Niall quickly. “I didn’t- I didn’t know I was, you know…”

“What?” said Harry again and Niall wondered if Harry was maybe not really a morning person because it seemed to take him a long time to wake up.

“I didn’t mean to, like, to spoon with you.”

“Oh,” said Harry dumbly, rolling over so he was facing Niall completely. He looked so beautiful, Niall thought, with his wavy hair all mussed and his eyes soft and green. “I don’t mind.”

“You- Okay. Well, um,” stuttered Niall, unsure how to feel about that little bit of information. “Good. Sorry.”

“We’re supposed to be boyfriends anyway, Ni,” said Harry, giving Niall a sweet smile.

“Yeah. Right,” said Niall because, yes, Harry was supposed to pretend to be his boyfriend at the wedding but there was nobody in their hotel room to see them pretending to be boyfriends. Cuddling wasn’t exactly something they needed to “practice” to make their fake relationship believable either, as they’d both pretended they needed to do the night before while they walked around Dublin holding hands.

Niall got out of bed and straightened his tee, walking toward the bathroom.

When he reappeared a few minutes later, Harry was sitting up in the bed, back against the headboard and his tattooed upper body on display.

“Let’s order room service,” said Harry. “I feel like it’s not right to stay at a hotel in Dublin and not have a full Irish breakfast sent up to the room.”

Niall laughed but agreed that they should have breakfast. “Full Irish sounds good. No coffee though,” he told Harry. “It’s got to be tea for a proper full Irish. I know you Brits think you drink the most tea of anyone ever but we Irish drink a fair amount too.”

“No,” said Harry, “you Irish drink more tea than any other country in the world.”

“Really?” asked Niall, surprised because he’d not known that.

Harry shrugged. “That’s what I’ve read anyway.”

Harry and Niall ate their breakfast, sitting in the armchairs by the window, food balanced precariously on the small table between the chairs.

“Should take you to Temple Bar,” said Niall through a bite of black pudding. “There’s the Cow’s Lane Market on Saturdays. Bet you’d love it.”

They finished their breakfasts—Harry gave Niall his bit of black pudding, claiming that it seemed Niall really liked it, though his scrunched-up nose seemed to prove that maybe it was just that he _didn’t_ like it—and got showered and dressed, leaving the room to head to Temple Bar.

They walked by the Temple Bar Pub and onto Essex Street, turning onto Cow’s Lane and beginning to walk up the paved path.

“Where is it?” wondered Niall.

“Where’s what?”

“The market,” said Niall, looking around the lane with furrowed brows.

He turned and moved toward Queen of Tarts, walking into the cafe and heading to the pastry counter. “Excuse me,” he said to the girl working at the espresso machine. She looked up at him and he continued. “Do ya know where the Designer Mart is?”

She pointed in the direction they’d just walked. “It’s down in St Michael’s and St John’s,” she told Niall.

“Thanks.”

Harry followed Niall back out of the cafe and down Cow’s Lane to a large stone building that looked rather like an old church. “What’s the Design Market?” he asked.

“It’s an outdoor market,” said Niall. “Well, it usually is. But it’s a market where Irish artists and designers sell their stuff. Most of it’s clothes and jewellry, thought you might like it.”

They stopped at the door of the church and read the sign that had been taped to it, a bright green piece of paper that said, “ _Designer Mart at Cow’s Lane will be held in the Main Space and Boys School as we prepare our Banquet Hall for a wedding this evening. The Market will be closing at 2:30 today in preparation for the wedding. Apologies for any inconvenience this may cause. Thank you_ ”

Niall led Harry into the building, following arrows that brought them into the Main Space. The room was filled with stalls that overflowed with clothing, accessories, jewellry, stationary, blankets, and a variety of other unique items.

Harry stopped at nearly every stall that sold clothing and accessories, buying a few things and taking business cards from three of the designers.

“That was brilliant!” said Harry happily as they left the market an hour and a half later, two bags hanging from his hand. “Thanks for that, kitten. It was sweet you thought to take me there.” He reached out with his free hand and took one of Niall’s in it, squeezing it gently.

Niall blushed. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Harry walked along, swinging Niall’s hand and looking around Temple Bar.

“What time do we have to leave the hotel for the wedding later?” he asked.

“Reckon, like, probably around half five,” said Niall.

“Good,” said Harry. “Then we have plenty of time for lunch”—he gave Niall a naughty smirk—“and maybe a cheeky pint or two.”

Niall stopped walking. “Oh, lad,” he said with a chuckle and a big smile, “you’re in the land of the cheeky pint.”

“Excellent.” Harry smiled even wider, dimples deep and eyes shining. “Just don’t get me drunk. I want to be presentable when I meet your family.”

Niall’s smile turned to a look of fondness. Now that Harry said it, he really liked the idea of Harry meeting his family, couldn’t wait to introduce him to his mother and father.

“Stop- stop looking at me like that,” said Harry quietly after a moment. The hint of insecurity in his voice surprised Niall; Harry hadn’t sounded self-conscious or insecure once in the twenty-four hours since he’d met him, didn’t seem to be the type of person who was ever unsure about anything.

“Like- like what?” asked Niall breathlessly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m- like I’m a- a silly twit for... wanting a cheeky pint,” said Harry, sounding almost nervous.

Niall exhaled. “Nothin’- There’s nothin’ silly about a cheeky pint.”

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly. “Oh. Okay.”

Niall studied Harry’s face, wondering if he was thinking— _feeling_ —the same thing. It was going to be difficult when this weekend ended, was going to hurt when they went back to London and to their own separate lives.

But this was just some fun for Harry, Niall reminded himself, a chance at a weekend in Dublin with someone to show him around. Harry hadn’t responded to a personal advert that was looking for a serious relationship, just an advert that needed a single date to a wedding.

He gave Harry what he hoped was a reassuring smile—a smile that said he’d not been thinking about anything more than a cheeky pint, that there was nothing to worry about, that he’d not been looking at Harry like maybe he was falling for him—and squeezed his hand.

“Come on, pet,” he said. “Let’s go find lunch.”

Harry squeezed Niall’s hand back. “Pet,” he giggled and Niall’s tummy flipped. “Is that my fake boyfriend pet name?”

Niall nodded and turned to look at Harry as they began to walk again, moving toward The Temple Bar Pub. “Yeah, s’pose it is. You get to be my pet.”

“I like it!” exclaimed Harry, giving his approval. “Much better than ‘lad.’”

“Glad you approve.”

The two boys made their way into the pub, taking seats beside each other at the bar.

“Could have the black pudding platter,” teased Niall as they looked at their menus.

“Um, no thank you,” said Harry. “I think I’ll just have a sandwich.”

Niall laughed and ordered two pints of Guinness.

An hour and a half—and a couple pints each—later, Harry and Niall walked back onto the pavement outside the pub.

“I need a nap,” announced Harry as they moseyed along Aston Quay on their way back to the hotel.

“Are you drunk, Gucci?” asked Niall, eyeing Harry with a smile on his lips. “My little lightweight.”

“I’m not,” said Harry with a pout, shaking his head. “I’m so sober.”

“Okay, pet,” said Niall placatingly.

“I’m not lying!”

“I didn’t say you were,” laughed Niall.

They turned onto the O’Connell Bridge. “You called me pet again,” said Harry as they walked along, sounding pleased. He moved closer and wrapped an arm around Niall’s waist.

Niall tensed up, surprised again by Harry’s touch as he had been when Harry had first held his hand the night before.

“Kitten,” said Harry softly, gentle concern in his voice, “does it make you uncomfortable when I touch you? Like this?”

“N-no. No,” insisted Niall.

“Then why do you get all tense every time I do?” asked Harry, still gentle and kind.

“I’m just… surprised.”

“Well, don’t be. I like touching you,” said Harry unabashedly. “Should practice anyway.” He shrugged. “Don’t want your family to suspect that we’re just pretending to be boyfriends.”

“Okay. Yeah,” said Niall quietly, nodding. “Right.”

“Good!” Harry smiled and gave Niall a little squeeze. “Now take a nap with me when we get back to the room.”

When they finally entered their room, Harry toed off his shoes and moved to the bed. He sat down and patted Niall’s side of the bed, giving the boy a soft smile.

Niall smiled shyly and kicked off his own shoes. “Okay,” he said bashfully, walking toward the bed and sitting down next to Harry.

“Lie down, kitten,” said Harry as he dropped down to the mattress. Niall followed, lying beside Harry. Harry scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Niall, pulling him against his body. “Got to practice so you don’t flinch every time I touch you,” he whispered into Niall’s ear, the hint of a grin in his voice.

It felt nice, Niall decided, to be tucked up in Harry’s arms. He relaxed, warm and comfortable and falling for Harry.

“Good, kitten,” said Harry, clearly pleased with how quickly Niall had relaxed this time.

Niall smiled and closed his eyes. He moved a hand to find one of Harry’s where it was draped over his waist. He laced their fingers together and heard the boy give a shocked little gasp. “Nap, pet,” he told Harry.

Harry chuckled softly. “You called me pet again.”

Niall’s smile grew even wider and, with the thought that maybe Harry really was his pet flitting through his sleepy thoughts, he fell asleep.

When he woke up an hour later, Harry’s face was nuzzled into Niall’s blond-streaked hair. He arched his back and stretched his legs out, body pressing against Harry.

“Whoa,” said Harry groggily from behind him. He moved away from Niall, putting a few inches between their bodies, and blinked a few times. “That’s- Christ.”

“Sorry,” said Niall, stilling his legs. “Didn’t mean to kick ya.”

“Mm,” grunted Harry because that wasn’t what had caused his reaction but he’d let Niall think it was.

Niall decided to make a pot of tea and Harry headed to the bathroom to shower. He returned about fifteen minutes later, towel tied low around his waist, torso and arms damp and covered in tattoos. He’d obviously towelled his hair because it was a flyaway mess of dark brown waves and curls.

“You don’t have to look so embarrassed,” Harry told Niall kindly. He walked toward the small glass table where they’d eaten breakfast that morning and where Niall now sat with the teapot, drinking a cup of tea. “You do look adorable when you blush though,” he mused.

“You’re practically naked,” said Niall. “I’m not used to- I’m not used to having Gucci models walking round in front of me nearly naked.”

“I’m not a Gucci model though, love,” said Harry with a cheeky smile.

“Whatever,” said Niall, taking a sip of his tea. “Guys who look like Gucci models.”

Harry sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. “You flatter me.”

His cup of tea finally finished, Niall got up to take a shower.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” said Harry when Niall stepped out of the bathroom ten minutes later, wrapped up in the thick bathrobe the hotel had provided. “Let me see you, love. Please.”

“No, Harry.” Niall blushed, eyes cast down toward his feet as he walked to the table and picked up his teacup.

Harry tilted his head and looked at Niall. “Why not, kitten?”

“I told you last night,” answered Niall quietly, sounding a little embarrassed.

Harry reached out and grabbed the edge of the bathrobe’s pocket, tugging to draw Niall closer to him. With Niall standing in front of him, Harry looked up at the boy and said, voice soft and sweet, “I’m not- I won’t ask you to strip for me, but I wish you would. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you’re the cutest lad I’ve ever seen. You’re stunning, love. Wish you’d let me see.”

Niall blushed and turned his eyes away from Harry’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said, nearly a whisper. “I’m just not- I’m not as comfortable”—he paused, blush deepening as he closed his eyes—“I’m not as comfortable showing my body as you are.”

Harry wanted to ask why he didn’t feel comfortable, if someone had made him feel ashamed about his body, but he didn’t want to push Niall; he wanted Niall to be comfortable around him, to enjoy spending time with him.

“Okay, kitten,” said Harry. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be sorry.”

Niall opened his eyes and looked at Harry. “It’s all right.” He noticed the concern on Harry’s face and gave a shy little smile. “I promise.” He blinked. “Should probably get ready for the wedding, boyfriend.”

Harry grinned his huge dimpled grin.

Niall stepped out of the bathroom a bit later, dressed in his light grey three-piece suit with a blue tie that complimented his brilliant blue eyes.

He looked across the room to find Harry dressed in a black velvet suit embroidered with what looked like tiny little flowers. The black shirt he was wearing under the jacket had a big black bow tied at the neck.

“You look like a velvet nightmare,” he told Harry, gaping at the boy’s outfit. “I don’t believe that you’re not a model.”

“I don’t know how to take those two sentences in combination,” said Harry, fiddling with the black neck bow as he observed his reflection in the mirror. “One’s sort of like a compliment and the other’s”—he looked toward Niall and finally saw the lad dressed in his suit for the first time—“Fucking hell, Niall. You look so fucking beautiful. Stunning.”

“Thank you,” said Niall, blushing at Harry’s praise.

“God, your blush,” hushed Harry, sounding almost reverent and awed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Niall studied Harry, watching the boy watch him. Niall wondered how someone who looked like a runway model could think that he was stunning but Harry seemed so genuine that, as tempting as it was, it was hard to doubt him.

“We should, um, we should get going,” said Niall. “We’ve got to take the bus back to Temple Bar.”

“We’re going back to Temple Bar?” asked Harry.

“Yeah,” Niall told him. “Back to St Michael’s and St John’s, actually.”

“Wait, that was your cousin’s wedding they were setting up?”

Niall nodded. “Must be. The invitation said Smock Alley Theatre and I kind of forgot that the theatre moved into the old St Michael’s and St John’s Banquet Hall.”

“Cool,” said Harry, smiling. “Could just walk though. It wasn’t that far.”

“I wouldn’t want your suit to get soiled,” teased Niall.

“You’re just embarrassed,” laughed Harry. “You don’t want people to see my pussy bow.”

“Pussy bow?” asked Niall, eyes widening. “Seriously?” Harry nodded and Niall closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m not embarrassed. I don’t want to soil my suit either.”

“No,” agreed Harry, following Niall to the door. “I wouldn’t want you to soil that suit either. Paul Smith looks good on you.”

“How do you know it’s Paul Smith?” wondered Niall as he closed the door and started down the hallway to the lift.

“Niall, I work in fashion,” said Harry. “It’s part of my job to watch other designers’ collections and see what they’re doing. And I like Paul Smith. It’s all very classy. Makes me think of, like, Cary Grant and Idris Elba.”

“I always think of James Bond,” said Niall.

“That too,” agreed Harry. He turned to Niall, giving him an appraising look. “You could be James Bond. You’re definitely handsome enough.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” said Niall, ducking his head down and feeling his cheeks heat up with a rosy pink.

“What, trying to make you blush?” asked Harry knowingly. “You know I love it when you blush.”

They walked to the bus stop and got on the 13, taking it to Carnegie Centre and walking the last short bit to the Smock Alley Theatre.

They entered the building—this time through the front door on Exchange Street Lower—and Niall looked around for a familiar face. It seemed to be mainly the family of the groom and some friends with whom Niall was not acquainted.

They stood awkwardly by the door. Niall noticed some of Seán’s family eyeing Harry and his outfit. Harry seemed not to notice or, perhaps, not to care.

“Niall!” they heard someone call from behind them and both lads turned to look.

“Ma!” said Niall happily, walking forward to meet the smaller woman. Harry trailed behind.

Maura hugged Niall. “It’s so good to see ya, love,” she said as she pulled back. Her eyes landed on Harry over Niall’s shoulder. “And you must be Harry!”

“Oh. Yeah,” said Niall, moving away from his mother and taking a step back toward Harry. “This is Harry. Harry, this is me mum.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs—”

“Maura, love,” said Maura, greeting Harry with a hug. “It’s lovely to meet you too. And look at that suit!” She pulled back, hands on Harry’s biceps as she took in his velvet suit.

“Harry works for Gucci, Ma,” Niall told Maura.

“Are you a model?” she asked.

Harry laughed. “No. I’m still trying to convince your son.” He bumped Niall with his shoulder and smiled his great dimpled smile. “I’m a junior designer scout in Buying and Sourcing.”

Maura talked with Harry for a while longer, asking all about his job—“What an interesting career! It sounds like so much fun.”—and then asking a question Niall hadn’t prepared an answer for, which, he realised in retrospect, was stupid.

“How did you meet Niall?”

“Oh!” said Harry as though he was excited to tell the story. “It sounds silly, but, um, we first met online. I was just looking- I was just looking for a new friend and I found Niall. I thought he was the cutest lad I’d ever seen so I sent him a message. When we finally- when we finally met”—Harry turned to look at Niall and gave him a sweet smile—“I knew I didn’t just want to be friends.”

Maura cooed, telling Harry it was just too sweet, and Niall looked at Harry with wide eyes. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts—the first part of Harry’s story was true but Harry had certainly embellished the final bit with an outright lie—to flinch when Harry slipped an arm around Niall’s waist and continued telling the story of their first date.

Niall focused on Harry again and listened to him tell Maura all about the events of the previous evening.

Oh God, Niall thought. Listening to Harry talk about the night before really sounded like someone talking about a quite pleasant first date. It sounded like a better first date than any of the real first dates he’d ever been on.

Maura seemed to agree, telling Harry that it sounded like a wonderful first date. “It must have gone well,” she chuckled, “since Niall decided to bring you round for the wedding!”

As if on cue, it was announced to everyone waiting in the Bar and Foyer that they should make their way to the Banquet Hall for the wedding ceremony. Harry moved his arm from around Niall’s waist and took his hand in his own, giving it a little squeeze. Niall looked at Harry again, eyes still wide, and Harry gave him another fond little smile.

They found seats at the cushioned pews and waited for the ceremony to begin.

Emma looked beautiful, Niall thought, as she walked down the aisle with her arm entwined with her father’s.

“Vera Wang,” Harry whispered to Niall. “Beautiful.”

When the ceremony ended, Niall glanced at Harry. “Are you crying?” he asked, surprised.

Harry nodded and brushed a tear from his eye.

“You don’t even know them!” said Niall incredulously.

“You don’t have to know people to know that their love is beautiful, Niall,” said Harry, voice quivery, as he wiped another tear from his eye.

Niall quirked a smile. “C’mon, pet,” he said, taking Harry’s hand. “Ya ready for some whiskey?” Harry groaned and Niall gave him a playful grin. “Don’t worry. Ya can have a fruity little cocktail if ya want.”

The crowd made their way back to the Bar and Foyer for cocktails.

Harry and Niall had only just made it down the stairs when Maura appeared at their side along with Niall’s aunt and sister-in-law Denise.

“This is Harry,” said Maura, excited, as though she was announcing the presence of a celebrity. “He and Niall met online, if you’ll believe it. Harry was just telling me earlier about their first date.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink,” said Niall, interrupting his mother as she gushed about Niall and Harry’s first date. “Would you like anything, pet?”

“Oh, yes, please!” said Harry, a little twinkle in his eye. “I’d love a grapefruit martini. Or just some Prosecco.”

Niall made his way to the bar, stopping along the way to say hello to family members.

“Yes,” he said to everyone because they all asked, “I’ve brought me boyfriend. He’s over talking to me mum and Aunt Mary and Denise.”

He finally returned to Harry and found that the group around him had grown to include his cousins Aoife, Katie, and Annie.

“Hi, ladies,” said Niall, sidling in next to Harry to give him his glass of Prosecco. “They didn’t have any grapefruit juice,” he explained.

“That’s okay,” said Harry, taking the glass of sparkling wine and smiling at Niall. “Thanks, kitten.”

“Kitten!” cooed Annie to the others, delighted by the pet name.

“Niall, your boyfriend works for Gucci!” exclaimed his cousin Katie.

“Yeah, I know,” said Niall, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Did you pick out Niall’s suit?” Annie asked Harry.

“No,” Harry told her. “He picked that out himself. I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect suit for him. He looks stunning.”

They talked a bit longer, mostly asking Harry about himself and his job at Gucci—they all found it just too exciting that Harry searched out new artists and designers to create for Gucci’s collections—until it was announced that dinner was to be served back in the banquet hall.

Harry and Niall were seated at the same table as Niall’s brother Greg and his wife Denise. Dinner conversation was pleasant. Greg and Denise asked what Niall and Harry had done earlier that day—Harry talked all about the Design Market and how sweet it had been of Niall to take him there—and asked if they had any plans for the next day.

The toasts were short and Harry cried through both the maid of honour and the best man’s speeches, earning a fond eye roll from Niall.

Finally, the cake had been cut, dessert had been served, and Emma and Seán had their first dance as a married couple. Guests began to get up and move to the dance floor.

“Come dance with me, Niall,” said Harry, a huge smile on his face.

“I don’t really dance,” Niall told him.

Harry pouted. “Don’t be like that, Niall! That’s not fair. Your boyfriend wants to dance.”

“Harry—”

“Please!” begged Harry, big green eyes blinking at Niall.

“I’ll dance when my whiskey’s gone,” said Niall with a half smile.

“Then I’m getting more wine while I wait.” Harry got up from the table and headed to the open bar, returning a few minutes later with another flute of Prosecco.

He’d just sat back down when Bobby arrived at their table.

“Bobby!” said Niall, watching as his father took a seat on his other side. “Where’ve you been hiding all night?”

“Been with your Uncle Ryan and your grandfather,” he told Niall. “But your mum’s been talking about Harry all through dinner and I wanted to come meet him.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Niall a little sheepishly. “Should’ve introduced ya before.”

“That’s all right. Saw them girls all flittering round,” he said with a smile. “Think they’re all taken with ya, Harry. Ya’d better watch out, Ni.” He gave a laugh.

“Oh.” Harry blushed. “No, I think, um, I think they were more excited- more excited that I work for Gucci than, um, than anything else. And anyway, um, I’m gay.”

“Just taking the piss,” said Bobby with a smile that Harry noticed looked rather a lot like Niall’s. “I think they’re just excited that Niall finally brought a boyfriend home. Heard Annie and Aoife talking about how sweet you two are together.”

“Has Niall never- Have you never brought a boyfriend home before?” asked Harry, looking from Bobby to Niall with a surprised expression on his face.

“I’ve never- I’ve never really had a boyfriend,” confessed Niall, blushing with embarrassment. “Before.”

“That’s why everyone’s so excited he’s brought you round,” said Bobby. “I’m going to go get some more whiskey. Ya want some, Niall?”

“Um, yeah. Yes, please,” said Niall, still blushing and avoiding looking at Harry.

“Ya want anything, Harry?”

“Maybe, um, yeah,” said Harry, still a little shocked by Niall’s confession. “I’ll have another glass of Prosecco, please.”

“Back in a tick,” said Bobby. He stood up and went in search of whiskey and wine.

“You’ve never had a boyfriend before?” asked Harry, leaning toward Niall, incredulous. Niall shook his head. “But… how?”

“I just haven’t,” said Niall, shrugging as if trying to downplay his embarrassment and the shame he felt bubbling in his stomach. “I’ve been on a lot of dates and, like, I’m not”—he blushed a deep, deep red that was different from any of the other blushes Harry had seen so far—“I’m not, like, a virgin or… whatever. I just…” He sighed. “Nothing ever seems to work out like I want it to.”

Harry looked at Niall with wide eyes. “Dance with me,” he said finally.

“I will when I finish my whiskey.”

“That’s not fair.” Harry frowned. “Your dad’s just gone to get you more!”

“I need it now,” said Niall, still an embarrassed blush on his face. “Probably’ll need a whole bottle, to be honest.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Harry said sweetly. “I’ve never really had a, like, a proper boyfriend either.”

“Really?” asked Niall, looking at Harry doubtfully.

“Yeah. But, I mean, I think it’s different for me,” said Harry.

“How?”

“Like, I’ve never really wanted a boyfriend. Before.”

“Oh,” breathed Niall. He sort of felt like crying; he’d always wanted a boyfriend, since he was sixteen and realised he was gay.

“Whiskey,” came Bobby’s voice from behind them. He placed a bottle on the table in front of Niall. “And Prosecco for Harry.” He put a glass of sparkling wine down next to the half-full one Harry already had and then sat down. He opened the bottle of whiskey and poured some into his own glass before serving Niall more.

Niall took a big gulp of his drink and Harry downed the last of the wine in his old glass before picking up the fresh one Bobby had just brought and taking a sip.

“Ya lads have any plans for tomorrow?” asked Bobby. “You’re coming to the brunch in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah,” agreed Niall. “We’re coming.”

“Please dance with me,” whined Harry a while later. “Please, kitten.”

“I will when I finish my—”

“I’ll finish your whiskey,” said Harry, cheeks flushed pink from four glasses of Prosecco. He reached over and took Niall’s glass from his hand. He locked eyes with Niall and finished the whole glass of whiskey. “It’s all- s’all gone now. Please dance with me.”

Bobby chuckled. “Go dance with your boyfriend, lad.”

“Please,” said Harry, voice low.

“Okay.” Niall rolled his eyes, the smile that quirked his lips betraying him, and allowed Harry to drag him to the dance floor.

Lady Gaga’s _Bad Romance_ started playing just as they got to the center and Harry looked at Niall with sparkling eyes and an enormous smile. “Niall! This is my jam!”

“This is your jam?” said Niall, biting his lip to keep from laughing at Harry. “You are such a—”

“Niall, I love Lady Gaga!”

“Yeah, I like Lady Gaga too,” admitted Niall. “You’re just funny.”

“Dance, Niall!” shouted Harry as he attempted to do the dance from the music video. Niall bounced along to the beat and Harry grinned.

After about six or seven songs, Harry decided he needed something to drink. Niall took advantage of Harry’s decision to take a break from dancing and went back to find another glass of whiskey. His father still sat at the table where he’d left him and had been joined by Niall’s Uncle Ryan, his grandfather, and Greg.

“Where’d Harry get off to?” asked Bobby.

“Gone to get a drink.”

Niall talked with the other men for a while, pleased that they only asked a few questions about Harry and their relationship.

When Harry didn’t return after about twenty-five minutes, Niall decided to try to find him. As he passed a table filled with women—he spotted his mother, grandmother, a few of his cousins, and a couple of his aunts—he heard Harry call his name. He turned and saw Harry walking toward him with a glass of red wine and another filled with what appeared to be water.

“You’re drinking red wine now?” he asked the boy.

“What?” asked Harry. “Oh. No. This is for your mum.”

“You got my mum a glass of wine?”

“Of course! I wanted some water and I asked the ladies if they wanted anything while I went- when I went to get it,” said Harry.

“The ladies?”

“The ladies!” said Harry, gesturing to the table filled with Niall’s female relatives.

“Were you- Have you been sitting with my mum and aunts and cousins?” wondered Niall.

“Yes,” said Harry, sounding so happy. “They were telling me all about bitty Niall. You used to put on concerts for your family?”

“Yeah,” said Niall. “Piano and, like, singing when I was really young and then guitar when I got a little older.”

“You’re too adorable,” Harry said.

“Yeah, thanks.” Niall wondered what else his family had told Harry. “You go back to the ladies. I’m going back to the lads.”

“I’ll come join you in a bit,” Harry told him. “Maybe I’ll even have some whiskey.”

“Are you going to get drunk, Gucci?” teased Niall. “Or, like, more than you already are?”

“I’m not drunk, kitten,” said Harry.

“Okay.” Niall gave Harry a look of disbelief. “If you say so. Come find me in a bit, pet.”

Harry did, slipping into a chair next to Niall and leaning forward to place a sweet kiss on Niall’s cheek.

Niall turned to Harry, eyes wide with surprise, and was struck with how beautiful Harry really was with his velvet suit and mussed wavy hair and brilliant green eyes that were sparkling with maybe just a bit too much alcohol and enough fondness that Niall felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Hi, Niall,” he said, grinning a lazy smile at the boy.

“Hi- hi, Harry,” breathed Niall.

Harry’s lazy grin stayed on his face. “You’re so pretty, Niall,” he said. “Just want to kiss you all over.”

Niall blushed. “Harry,” he whispered. “Please—”

“Kiss you all over,” continued Harry, placing a hand on Niall’s knee. “And, like, and lick you. You’re so pretty.”

“Harry,” said Niall again, a little more firmly. “Stop.” He lowered his voice and leant forward, gesturing with his head toward the men still sitting around the table. “Everyone can hear you.”

“They’re not listening, Niall,” said Harry. “They’re all talking. They didn’t hear me, I promise.”

“Harry- _Shit_ ,” said Niall as Harry’s hand moved slowly from Niall’s knee up toward his crotch.  “Harry, what are—”

“God, kitten. You’re so beautiful,” said Harry, voice pitched low. “Just want to see you all stripped naked. See your beautiful little body all fair and freckly and gorgeous.” His hand finally reached Niall’s clothed cock and he began to trace his fingers over the outline of his soft length. “Kiss every single inch of you.”

“Harry, please,” said Niall quietly. “Please stop.”

Harry pulled back, hand still on Niall, and looked at Niall with a hurt expression. “Don’t you want me to kiss you?”

“Fuck,” whispered Niall, studying Harry’s face. “Yeah, I do. Just not here, pet.”

“Do you mean that?” asked Harry, looking hopeful.

“Yes,” Niall assured him.

“Good,” said Harry with another lazy smile, fingers again rubbing at the fly of Niall’s trousers. “I want to do so much to you. I want to make you feel so good, kitten.” He leant forward and pressed his lips to Niall’s ear. “Suck your cock. Will you let me? When we- when we get back to the hotel? Can I please?”

Niall inhaled sharply. “I need more whiskey.”

“Let’s have whiskey,” agreed Harry, leaning back.

“I don’t think you should have any more whiskey, pet,” Niall told him. “You’re already pissed.”

“No,” denied Harry.

“I don’t want you to forget everything you just said,” Niall told him.

“I won’t, Niall,” said Harry vehemently, cheeks pink. “I’ve been thinking it since yesterday.”

“Don’t want you to forget you said it then.”

“I won’t,” Harry said again, eyes wide and shining.

A half an hour later, Niall had finished another glass of whiskey and Harry had whispered nearly every dirty promise Niall could ever have imagined—and some he couldn’t—while rubbing Niall’s hardening cock, fingertips tracing the length softly and palm pressing with just the perfect amount of pressure.

“The party’s- the party’s over, Niall,” Harry said with a hiccup soon after Niall finished his last pint of Guinness for the evening. “Look, Niall.”

Niall looked around the banquet hall and saw that Harry was right; the crowd had thinned considerably and it seemed to only be some of Niall’s family left.

“Let’s go back to the hotel and I can”—Harry whined—“I want to suck your cock.”

They said their goodbyes, Niall supporting Harry with an arm around his waist, and made their way outside to the cool October air to wait for their taxi.

“Niall.” Harry wrapped his arms around Niall’s neck, lips pressing to Niall’s ear. “Niall, can I- please can I suck your cock?” he breathed against the sensitive skin. “Please?” he whimpered again, taking Niall’s earlobe between his teeth and nibbling lightly.

“Fuck, Harry,” Niall said on an exhale, arm still wrapped around Harry’s hips, so turned on. He didn’t care if anyone saw now, didn’t care if anyone was watching what Harry was doing to him. “Are you- are you sure?”

“Yes,” groaned Harry impatiently. “Of course I am, Niall. You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you,” said Niall, because it was true. He still wasn’t sure why Harry, this boy who looked like a model, thought he was beautiful and lovely and wanted to kiss every inch of his body.

Their cab arrived and Niall climbed into the backseat, followed immediately by Harry, who climbed onto Niall’s lap and straddled his thighs.

“Harry,” said Niall, pushing the boy off his lap, “sit down proper. Got to buckle in, yeah?”

Harry pouted. “I just want to kiss you, Niall.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Niall, “but yeh’ve got to be safe. Can’t have ya getting hurt before we get back to the room.”

Harry settled into his seat, buckling his belt loosely enough that he could still lean against Niall, lips on Niall’s neck and hand massaging the other lad’s upper thigh and hard cock.

“I want- I want to fuck you,” whispered Harry as they neared the hotel, lips dragging against Niall’s ticklish neck. “Will you let me? After I suck your cock?”

“Christ,” groaned Niall, eyes closing and head falling back against the seat.

“So good, kitten,” continued Harry. “I’ll be so good. Whatever you want.”

Niall slid a hand into the short hair at the nape of Harry’s neck and dragged him away from his neck. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Harry and found Harry looking at him with wide eyes, a bit of confusion and maybe a touch of that same hurt from earlier when he’d thought Niall didn’t want to kiss him playing across his face.

Without a word, Niall leant forward and placed his lips to Harry’s, kissing him softly, sharing their first kiss.

“That’s it,” said Niall when he pulled back from the kiss, exhaling slowly. “Just- I just wanted a kiss.”

“What?” asked Harry after a few moments, sounding confused.

“I know you’re pissed,” said Niall as explanation, giving a sad little smile. “I just wanted a kiss before ya sober up.”

The taxi stopped in front of The Gresham and Niall paid the cabbie before helping Harry out of the backseat. They made their way in the front door and to the lift.

Harry looked at Niall as the lift doors closed. “Niall—”

“It’s okay, Harry,” said Niall, cutting off whatever rambling apology Harry was going to make, whatever he was going to say to tell Niall that he’d made a mistake and hadn’t really meant any of what he’d said. “We’ll get you all tucked in bed. Get a good night’s sleep.”

“Niall,” said Harry, a little more firmly, sounding a tiny bit annoyed, “I want to kiss you.”

“Harry, it’s okay,” insisted Niall because it hurt to hear a drunk Harry trying to convince Niall that he’d really meant all of the whispered promises he’d made. “You had a lot of Prosecco. And some whiskey and you said—”

“I’m not drunk, Niall,” said Harry unconvincingly. Niall looked at him with a raised brow. “Okay, I am drunk but I mean it. I’ve wanted to kiss you- I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw your picture on- on… Craigslist. And I wanted to give you a blowie since you got all embarrassed to sleep in your pants last night. Want to show you how beautiful you are.”

“Harry—”

“You shouldn’t- shouldn’t be embarrassed or- or whatever. You’re so fucking gorgeous,” continued Harry. “Want to suck your cock. Please.”

Niall didn’t say anything, just slid an arm around Harry when the lift doors opened and led him toward their room.

“Right,” said Niall as he opened their door and entered the room with Harry. “Going to get you ready for bed, brush your teeth and get you out of that velvet suit.”

“No,” said Harry when Niall took his arm from around Harry’s waist and turned to shut the door, voice almost demanding.

Niall turned back to face Harry and Harry stepped toward Niall, pressing him to the closed door. With one hand on Niall’s shoulder and the other cupping the side of Niall’s neck and face, Harry leant forward and kissed the boy firmly. He pulled his lips back half an inch and took Niall’s bottom lip between this teeth, nibbling gently before pressing his lips to Niall’s again, kissing him deeply.

Niall gave in, kissing Harry back, revelling in the feeling of Harry’s plump lips against his own. His hands moved to Harry’s hips, pulling him even closer to his body. He sighed and Harry licked into his mouth, moaning and grinding against Niall’s hip.

With open mouthed kisses, Harry moved from Niall’s lips down his jaw and to his ear, sucking and nibbling at his earlobe. “I want to suck your cock, Niall,” he whispered into Niall’s ear.

Without another word, Harry sank to his knees in front of Niall. He placed a hand on Niall’s thigh, rubbing at the muscles with his long fingers and listening to the little pants and whimpers that tumbled from Niall’s pink lips. He moved both of his hands up to the fly of Niall’s trousers and deftly slid the button through the buttonhole and pulled the zip down. He reached up to the waistband and tugged the trousers down around Niall’s knees, leaving him in his pants, his shirt and waistcoat and jacket and tie still on.

Harry leant forward and put his open lips over the shape of Niall’s hard cock, moving his mouth along the thick outline of Niall’s length. His lips closed around the clothed head of Niall’s cock and he sucked Niall through his pants.

He pulled back a few inches, a string of spit trailing from his lips to the damp fabric of Niall’s pants. “I’m gonna suck you, Niall,” he said, looking up at Niall through his long lashes.

Niall inhaled sharply and then sighed as Harry dragged his pants down to meet his trousers. “Ohhh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” whispered Harry, reaching out to wrap a hand around the base of Niall’s cock and ducking forward to lick the head. “Beautiful.”

“Uhhhh,” moaned Niall as Harry eagerly licked the head of his cock like an ice cream cone. After a few minutes of his wet tongue teasing the tip, Harry slipped the whole head between his lips, suckling at the soft flesh.

Harry stretched his lips to take Niall’s length all the way into his mouth, tongue tracing patterns along the firm cock, and then pulled back until only the tip was parting his lips. He continued his rhythm, bobbing down and up and down and up, the head hitting the back of his throat before sliding back out of his mouth almost completely to stretch his plump lips.

Overwhelmed with the wet heat of Harry’s mouth, Niall slid his hands to the back of Harry’s head, fingers tangling in his wavy hair. Without thinking, without even realising what he was doing, Niall began to fuck Harry’s mouth, holding Harry’s head in place with his hands. He snapped his hips forward, forcing his cock into Harry’s mouth, and drew them back, leaving just the tip inside Harry’s beautiful lips.

It wasn’t until Harry began to splutter and gag that Niall realised what he was doing. “Oh, God,” he groaned, stilling his movements, “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t—”

“Can keep doing it,” said Harry, looking up at Niall with eyes sparkling with tears and spit dribbling from his bruised lips.

“Y-yeah?” asked Niall hesitantly, sounding uncertain.

“Mmhm,” hummed Harry, leaning forward to take Niall’s slick cock back into his mouth. He looked through his lashes at Niall expectantly.

Niall watched Harry for a few moments, as though checking to make sure Harry was fine, before resuming his movements from minutes earlier. He thrust his cock into Harry’s slack mouth before dragging it back out and then fucking back in.

Harry’s eyes fell closed as he continued to let Niall use his mouth, gagging occasionally when Niall hit the back of his throat forcefully.

“You, uh”—Niall grunted—“you like this, don’t you?” Niall looked at Harry, tears slipping from beneath his lashes. “You like how I’m fucking your pretty mouth?”

“Mmmmm,” moaned Harry around Niall’s length.

“You’re just the sweetest thing,” said Niall gently, hips snapping back and forth in a way so opposite his tone. “Is this what, _uh_ , is this what you meant? Said”—Niall groaned—“said you’d be so good, do whatever I want?”

“Mmmhmm,” agreed Harry, choking on Niall’s cock.

“Are you- Does this turn you on?” asked Niall. “Make you- Does this make you hard?”

“Mmmhm,” moaned Harry in agreement again.

“I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna cum, pet.” Niall stilled his hips, loosening his hold on Harry’s head and pulling his cock out so only half of it was in Harry’s mouth. “Oh, God, Harry. Oh my God.” He thrust into Harry’s mouth shallowly, just needing the smallest amount of friction from Harry’s lips to push him to his orgasm. “G-God,” he moaned one more time, eyes closed tight, finally cumming in Harry’s mouth.

He pulled out of Harry’s mouth, taking in Harry’s flushed face covered in spit and tears and noticing his obvious erection.

“You look beautiful,” he told Harry. Harry opened his sparkling eyes and gave him a lovely smile, so happy that Niall thought so. “Do you want- Let me touch you.” Niall dropped to his knees next to Harry, reaching forward to undo Harry’s velvet trousers. “Let me—”

“No,” said Harry, voice raspy. He pushed Niall’s hand away. “Will you ride me? Please? When”—he let out a shuddery breath—“when you’re ready?”

“You want- What?” asked Niall. “Let me get you off, pet. You can’t wait that long.”

“Yes, I can,” said Harry almost defiantly. “I want you to ride me, please.”

“Harry, pet—”

“Please, Niall,” begged Harry, so sweetly, “please ride me. I want to- want to feel you around me.”

Niall studied Harry’s face as the boy pleaded with him, green eyes wide and hopeful. “Harry.”

“I can wait, Niall,” said Harry. “I want to be good for you.”

Niall’s mouth dropped open at Harry’s words. “You’re going to wait for me?”

“Yes,” said Harry, nodding quickly, eager to please Niall.

“I’d like- Undress for me, yeah, pet?” asked Niall. “I’d like to see you all bare for me.”

“Okay, Niall,” said Harry, standing on shaky legs. “Will you let me see you?” He unzipped his fly and struggled to pull the velvet jacket off his long arms.

“Here, pet,” said Niall, getting to his feet and helping Harry take the jacket off. “Don’t want- I don’t want you to ruin this suit. Looks amazing on you.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Harry, stopping his attempt to untie his pussy bow and looking at Niall with wide eyes.

“O’ course I do,” Niall told him. “Ya look like a fucking model, pet.”

“Thanks, Niall.” Harry beamed at the boy, obviously delighted that Niall liked his suit.

He finally managed to undress, standing in front of Niall in just his boxer briefs.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” said Niall, hushed.

Harry smiled a pleased little smile and stepped toward Niall. “Will you please let me see you now?” he asked sweetly, biting his lip. “Please?”

Niall exhaled and looked down at himself. It was a bit backwards, he supposed, that Harry had seen his cock—had sucked his cock—before he’d seen Niall shirtless.

“Will you… undress me?” he asked shyly. He wasn’t sure why but he felt more comfortable with the idea of Harry undressing him than he did of undressing himself in front of Harry.

Harry’s eyes lit up. He walked behind Niall and removed his jacket before moving back in front of the boy to unbutton his waistcoat. He pushed it off Niall’s shoulders and placed it with the jacket on the back of the desk chair. With gentle fingers, Harry unknotted Niall’s tie and then unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful, kitten,” said Harry as he slid Niall’s shirt off his arms, leaving him naked and exposed. “So beautiful, like I knew you would be.” He dipped his head down and kissed the boy’s lips, soft and sweet and tender. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” asked Niall, confused. “For—”

“For finally- For letting me see you,” answered Harry. “For trusting me. Because- because someone must have made you uncomfortable to show your body but… you showed me.”

It was Niall’s turn to tip his face up and capture Harry’s lips in a kiss. It started sweet and gentle but quickly turned into a deeper kiss, Harry nibbling at Niall’s lip and pressing his tongue into Niall’s mouth. Niall moaned, tasting his own cum on Harry’s lips and tongue.

Harry hummed happily and wrapped his arms around Niall’s smaller body, lifting him up and placing him on the bed. He hovered over Niall, placing kisses to his lips and cheeks and chin and jaw, trailing his mouth along the planes and curves of Niall’s face.

Harry slipped two fingers into Niall’s mouth and, without needing to be told, Niall sucked on them, getting them slick with his spit.

“All right, kitten,” whispered Harry. “I’ve got to open you up a little bit.” He moved his fingers from between Niall’s kiss-swollen lips. “Come sit on my lap, kitten. Got to get you ready- I’ve got to get you ready to ride me.” He pushed himself up and moved to sit with his back against the headboard, stretching his long legs out. “You’ll ride me, won’t you, love? Please?”

“Yes, God,” sighed Niall, sitting up and arranging himself on Harry’s lap, skinny legs stradling Harry’s longer ones. He leant forward to kiss Harry, pressing his body to the taller lad’s, and Harry brought his hand behind Niall and slipped his spit-slick fingers into the crack of Niall’s bum.

“You’re going to be so beautiful when you’re riding my cock,” said Harry, pressing the tip of his index finger to Niall’s tight hole and circling the rim. “You’re so beautiful.”

Niall moaned, head thrown back, as Harry pushed his first finger into Niall’s tight hole. “Ohhh! Deeper, pet. Deeper.” Harry did as he was told, pressing his finger deeper into Niall’s arse. “Yes,” whined Niall.

Harry began to finger Niall, pumping his index finger in past the second knuckle before pulling out so only his fingertip was holding Niall open and then pushing back in. He added a second finger at Niall’s insistence, fucking the boy with both his index and middle finger, and then spread his fingers, scissoring him open and adding a third.

“Fuck me, Harry,” said Niall, voice sounding broken already. “Let me ride you, pet. You’ve got- It must hurt. You’ve been hard for—”

“I’m fine, kitten,” said Harry reassuringly. “I want to make sure you’re prepped.”

“I am,” Niall insisted. “Just fuck me, pet.”

“I’m- Niall, I’m not”—Harry exhaled slowly—“I’m not going to fuck you without lube.”

Niall blinked at Harry. “I don’t have any lube.”

“I do,” Harry told him. “Now let me finger you a little longer. Please. I like doing that. Your bum is very cute.”

“But Harry, you’ve been hard for ages,” insisted Niall.

“Shh, kitten,” hushed Harry. “Going to finger you a little more. Then I’ll get the lube and you can ride me.”

Niall only moaned when Harry continued to finger his arse, stretching him with his long fingers.

Finally, Harry sat up, shifting Niall on his lap and repositioning him so he was lying on his back. “Going to get the lube, kitten,” he said, brushing a bit of Niall’s hair back from his forehead.

He returned a minute later and sat back against the headboard again, unwrapping a condom and rolling it down his length before squeezing lube from the little tube and spreading it down his cock. “Please, Niall,” he said, sounding a little needy and desperate now, “please ride me.”

Niall sat up and crawled across the bed to Harry. “Such a polite boy,” said Niall, teasing. “So good.” Harry whined, body relaxing and becoming pliant, and Niall raised a brow, intrigued by Harry’s reaction to his words. “Are- are you going to be my good boy?”

“Yes. Yes, Niall,” whimpered Harry. “Yes, I want to be your good boy. Please, Niall. Please ride my cock.”

“Yeah, pet, I’ll ride your cock,” Niall told him soothingly, resuming the same position he’d been in just minutes before. He straddled Harry’s thighs and positioned himself, reaching down to hold Harry’s cock. “ _Fuck_ ,” he moaned when his hand closed around Harry’s erection. “Fuck, pet. You’re huge.”

“I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you, Niall,” said Harry, sounding concerned, obviously misinterpreting Niall’s meaning.

“No, pet. It’s- s’good,” Niall said. “Going to be so good.”

As aching and desperate to finally be filled as Harry was to finally be inside Niall, Niall raised himself up and, with a hand around Harry’s cock, lined himself up with the head.

Slowly, very slowly, Niall lowered himself down. The tip prodded at his stretched hole and then breached the ring of muscle. “Ahh,” he choked out, eyes closing and head tipping forward because Harry had taken his time prepping Niall but he really did have a huge cock.

After a few moments, Niall began to work more of Harry’s length into his arse. He sat down, lowering himself half inch by half inch by half inch until he finally, _finally_ , rested his bum on Harry’s pelvis.

“Fuck, oh, _fuck_ ,” moaned Niall, so full and stretched. “God, Harry.”

“Niall, please,” whimpered Harry so sweetly. “Please?”

“Please what, pet?”

“Please, Niall,” begged Harry. “Please kiss me.”

“Oh, pet,” sighed Niall, bending down. “You’re so beautiful. Begging me for a kiss.” He pressed his lips to Harry’s, kissing him tenderly. Harry purred, so pleased, and Niall smiled against his lips.

“Gonna ride ya now, Harry,” whispered Niall, pulling away from the boy and sitting up. “Just like you want. Asked so politely.” He gave Harry a smile and lifted his arse up, feeling Harry’s cock dragging against his rim, before sitting back down. “You’re so big, pet. Feel so good, fuck.”

Harry moaned, eyes closed tight and bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Slow, please,” he said, a request rather than a command. “I don’t- don’t want this to end yet.”

“No,” agreed Niall. “I’ll go slow, pet. Make it last.” He continued his easy movements, a slow and steady pace, rising up until only the head of Harry’s thick cock stretched his hole and dropping down until he was filled with Harry’s length completely.

“Do you like this?” asked Niall, leaning down again to kiss Harry’s pretty parted lips, catching his little moans and pants. “Do you like filling me up?”

“Niall, yes,” said Harry, voice a soft whisper. “I like it so much. Feels, ohhh, feels perfect.”

“Yeah, pet. Never”—Niall groaned as Harry’s cock nudged his prostate—“never so good.” He began to grind himself against Harry’s pelvis, making figure-eights with his hips and feeling Harry’s length against his prostate with every swivel. “ _Shit_.”

He brought himself close to the edge of his orgasm, so close it almost hurt, before resuming his rising and falling—up and down, dragging Harry’s length out and then dropping back down to the hilt.

And then he saw Harry’s face, eyes tightly shut and leaking tears from under his fluttering lashes, cheeks pink in the most beautiful way, bottom lip caught between his teeth, brow furrowed.

“Ni- Ni- Niall,” he panted. “Niall, I’m—”

“Go on, pet. Cum for me, yeah,” urged Niall. “Cum, pet. You were so good, so patient. Cum, love.”

“Oooohhhhh,” moaned Harry, high and obscene, as his body tensed and relaxed and tensed and relaxed.

“Fuck,” whispered Niall, grinding his hips in slow circles and watching Harry ride out his orgasm. He reached down and wrapped a hand around his own cock, jerking himself to the gorgeous sight below him.

“Ooohhhhhhhh,” whined Harry again, one final wave crashing over his sated body, and Niall came across the butterfly tattoo on Harry’s torso.         

Niall waited a few minutes, still above Harry, until Harry opened his eyes. They sparkled with tears and something Niall couldn’t quite name but suspected had something to do with finally cumming after hours of holding his orgasm back.

“Gonna- gonna pull you out, love,” whispered Niall. He lifted his hips, letting Harry’s softening length slip from his hole and pop out, falling with a dull thud against his tummy.

Niall got up and went to the bathroom, taking a flannel from the towel bar and dampening it with warm tap water. He returned to the bed, removing the used condom from Harry’s soft cock and wiping his length before gently cleaning his own cum off Harry’s tummy. Finished, he threw the towel to the floor and turned the light off. He turned back to Harry.

“All right, pet,” he whispered, sitting down and moving across the mattress toward the boy. “Gonna cuddle you up.”

He lay down beside Harry and pulled the duvet up, covering both of their bodies, and then wrapped his arms around him. He dragged Harry toward himself, pressing the lad’s back to his chest, and whispered softly in his ear, “G’night, pet. You were so good. So lovely, yeah. Just what I wanted.”

Harry hummed contentedly, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Niall. “Thank you, Niall.”

Niall wasn’t sure what Harry was thanking him for but he just pressed a kiss to his temple and said quietly, sincerely, “You’re welcome, pet.” He laid his head down on his pillow and nuzzled his face into the warm skin at the nape of Harry’s neck, smelling Harry’s cologne—tobacco and vanilla and maybe a hint of leather—mixed with sweat and sex.

He was so far gone for Harry and it was going to end in just over twenty-four hours, when they both got on their flights back to London and went back to their own lives. He wouldn’t think about that now, he decided; he would pretend that Harry was really his boyfriend and that the amazing sex he’d just had with the beautiful boy had actually meant something and that Harry belonged to him.

He wondered if Harry felt what he felt, if Harry was thinking any of the same thoughts; he wanted to know if Harry was pretending, as he cuddled back into Niall’s arms, that Niall was his boyfriend and that everything they’d done had really meant something.

Niall’s eyes grew heavy, closing as he was lulled to sleep by Harry’s steady breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the heartbeat under his palm a soothing lullaby.

When Niall opened his eyes five hours later, he saw the sun peeking through the curtains, casting a pretty grapefruit-pink glow over the room. Harry lay beside him still, curled up on his side with his face tilted toward Niall and his arm stretched over Niall’s waist.

Harry looked beautiful, Niall thought, his face smooth and relaxed with sleep.

Niall reached forward and traced the outlines of Harry’s tattoos, the butterfly on his torso and the swallows just below his collarbones. He trailed his fingers down the arm that rested on Niall’s waist and noticed a tattoo he hadn’t paid attention to before; it was a picture of a bottle with the words _YOU BOOZE YOU LOSE_ around it in a scratchy handwriting.

 _You booze you lose_. Niall trailed his fingers over the shape of the bottle and then the words and wondered what that meant.

And then his heart dropped. Maybe, he thought, Harry had a habit of getting drunk and doing things he regretted when he sobered up; maybe Niall had been his vice.

And then Niall remembered that Harry had been prepared to have sex while he hadn’t; Harry had packed lube. Maybe Harry had expected, had planned, to have sex with Niall before they’d even met at the Dublin Airport.

It was a lot of maybes, Niall knew, but he didn’t like the thought that maybe Harry had come along on this trip with ulterior motives.

“Good morning, kitten,” said Harry, breaking Niall out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” said Niall, quickly moving his hand away from where it still traced patterns over the tattoo on Harry’s left arm. “I mean, good morning, Harry.”

“I’m not pet this morning?” asked Harry with a pout.

Niall looked at Harry. “Was I just a mistake?” he asked before he could stop himself from blurting out one of the questions that was concerning him.

“What?” asked Harry, clearly taken aback and confused by Niall’s non sequitur. His expression shifted from one of total confusion to mild confusion laced with a bit of understanding. “Oh,” he said, glancing down to where Niall’s hand had just laid a moment earlier. “No. I meant everything that happened last night.”

Niall studied Harry’s face, looking for any signs that he was lying. “Did you have it planned, then?”

“Have what planned?” asked Harry, totally confused again.

“Everything we did,” said Niall. He looked away and added, “You had lube.”

Again, understanding seemed to dawn on Harry. “Niall, I’m not- I won’t lie and say that, like, that the idea of having sex with you hadn’t crossed my mind,” admitted Harry. “I told you I thought you were the cutest lad I’d ever seen. I, like, I hoped it would happen but”—Harry shrugged—“I didn’t expect it to. Especially when you seemed uncomfortable every time I touched you. And, like, you didn’t- you didn’t want me to see you undressed.”

“But you brought lube,” repeated Niall.

Harry sighed quietly. “Yeah, Niall. I did. In case.”

“In case?” asked Niall.

“Yeah. In case I was lucky enough that you actually decided to sleep with me,” said Harry, giving Niall a little smile. “You certainly didn’t complain when I got the lube out last night.” Harry squinted his eyes as though something had just occurred to him. “Actually, you sort of did. You were annoyed when I wanted to get the lube before I’d let you ride my cock.”

“I wasn’t—”

“And I may have been drunk but I remember you telling me that it was just what you wanted,” finished Harry.

Niall looked at Harry, unsure what to say because Harry wasn’t wrong. “Yeah,” he finally admitted shyly. “It was- it was just what I wanted.”

Harry smiled, pleased by Niall’s admission, and said, “You were so good to me. Made me feel so lovely. It was- it was different than usual, last night. Softer.”

“Oh,” said Niall, breath caught in his throat. He blinked at Harry.

“Yeah,” said Harry, giving Niall the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

“Should- We should probably get ready, pet,” said Niall after a few moments. “For the brunch.”

Niall stepped into the bathroom ten minutes later—Harry had somehow ensnared Niall in a lazy morning make out session that was equal parts tender and arousing—and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

“Holy- Shit, Harry,” exclaimed Niall, walking back into the room. “I’m- Yeh’ve covered me- I’ve got lovebites all over me neck!”

“Mmm, I know,” agreed Harry, gazing at Niall as though admiring his work. “You look gorgeous covered in my marks.”

Niall gaped at Harry. “But I can’t- What am I going to wear?”

“What?” wondered Harry, confused what the lovebites covering Niall’s neck had to do with what outfit he should wear for the day.

“How am I- I need to cover them up,” he said.

“Why?” asked Harry.

“So no one”—he looked at Harry, eyes wide—“It looks like you bit me!”

“But I didn’t.” Harry shrugged and smirked. “Should have.”

“I don’t want me mum to think you bit me!”

“Why not?” asked Harry, beginning to look a little annoyed. “We’re supposed to be boyfriends, Niall. It’s okay if she knows we had sex.”

“Would you want your mum to see—”

“I’d want everyone to see I belong to you,” said Harry recklessly, honest and bold. “And I want everyone to see you belong to me.”

Niall’s mouth fell open, shocked. “But I don’t really,” he finally said a little sadly, the reality of the situation falling around him. “Just for the weekend.”  

“For the weekend, you do,” said Harry, twisting Niall’s words. He hoped that Niall would realise what he meant, that he really did belong to Harry—and Harry to Niall—for the weekend, that it didn’t feel pretend for him.

“Yeah,” said Niall with a half eye roll and a look that clearly said _duh_. Harry assumed Niall had not picked up his meaning. “Let’s just- Can we just get ready for brunch?”

“Right. Sure,” said Harry, feeling a little disheartened.

An hour later, Niall and Harry walked into Whitefriar Grill and were led by the pretty hostess to a separate dining room reserved for wedding guests to drop by for a buffet and one last chance to congratulate the bride and groom.

“Niall!” called Emma from across the room, gesturing with a wave for him to join her and Seán.

Niall waved back and turned to Harry, reaching down to slip the taller lad’s hand into his own. “Ready, boyfriend?” he asked, voice low.

“Always for you,” said Harry honestly.

Niall gave him a shy smile. “C’mon, then.”

They crossed the room and joined Emma. “Niall, I’m so glad you came!” she said as soon as the boys arrived at her table. “And I’m so happy you brought Harry.”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce—”

“We met,” interjected Harry happily. “We drank Prosecco and talked about you.”

“When?” asked Niall.

“Last night when you were drinking whiskey and I went off with the ladies,” answered Harry with a shrug and Niall groaned, wondering again what exactly his family had told Harry.

They talked for a while, hearing about Emma and Seán’s honeymoon plans and telling Emma about their trip to Dublin; she was thrilled to hear that Niall had taken Harry to the Design Mart the previous day.

They soon said their congratulations, hugging Emma and shaking Seán’s hand.

“Go get some food,” said Seán. “They make a great black pudding here.”

Before Niall left the newlyweds to follow Harry to the buffet, Emma grabbed his wrist. “I’m really happy for you, Niall,” she said with a smile. “Harry seems like a really nice lad and I think he really loves you.”

Niall looked at Emma, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. He didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to tell her the truth, that Harry wasn’t really even his boyfriend, and part of him knew that telling her the truth would make her sad because she was so happy for him. Still another part of him was shocked by Emma’s assertion that Harry loved him and a teeny tiny part of him was angry—angry at Harry for being such a convincing actor, angry at Emma for saying that, angry at his family for putting him into a situation that he felt required him to pretend to have a boyfriend, and angry at himself for everything.

“It’s still- it’s still pretty early in the, um, in the relationship for that, I think,” said Niall awkwardly.

“I don’t know about that,” Emma told him. “I knew I loved Seán after only a few dates.”

Niall left Emma and Seán, going in search of Harry. He found him at a table with Maura and Bobby, two plates filled with food and two cups of coffee in front of him.

“Guess you were hungry?” asked Niall, noticing all of the food.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Fixed you a plate too.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did, kitten,” Harry told him with a fond smile.

Niall blushed and sat down with Harry and his parents at the table. “Thanks, pet.”

Bobby and Maura chatted with them for a bit, asking Niall what he planned to do and show Harry on their last day in Dublin.

“Should go to the Castle Gardens,” said Maura with a dreamy sort of look. “It’s so romantic.”

“Ohh, let’s go, Niall!” said Harry. “Please, kitten!”

“Yeah, all right,” said Niall with a crooked smile.

When they’d finished eating, Niall and Harry made their way around the room, stopping to visit with some more of Niall’s family before saying their goodbyes. Harry’s hand rested at the small of Niall’s back as they walked around, his fingers tracing gentle patterns and sending chills up Niall’s spine.

“I’m so glad you came, Harry,” said Emma when they gave their parting well-wishes to the newlyweds. “I think you and Niall are so lovely together.”

Harry turned toward Niall and placed a sweet little kiss to his temple before turning back to Emma with a smile and saying, “I think so too.”

“You both should come visit more often,” she said.

“We definitely will,” Harry told her.

“Why did you say we definitely will?” hissed Niall as they headed out of the restaurant. “Now when I come home alone at Christmas, I’ll have to say we broke up or something.”

Harry shrugged. “You don’t have to come back for Christmas alone. I’ll come. I like your family!”

Niall stopped and stared at Harry in disbelief. “So what? Just keep pretending you’re my boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then what? Tell everyone it was all a lie?” asked Niall, annoyance and slight anger bubbling up.

Harry looked at Niall, brows knit. “God, you’re oblivious.”

“What?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go to Dublin Castle. Please, kitten?”

Harry and Niall entered the Castle Gardens through the wrought-iron gates. They strolled around, Harry stopping in each of the smaller gardens to read the plaques and look at the sculptures.

“Are you staying tonight?” asked Niall as they sat on a bench in the Garda Memorial, realising he’d never asked Harry when he was planning to fly back to London.

“I was planning to,” said Harry, turning to look at Niall. “Unless- unless you’re trying to get rid of me.” He gave a little laugh that he hoped covered up his worry and nudged Niall with his shoulder.

“I’m definitely not trying to get rid of you,” Niall told him with a gentle smile. “I promise.”

Harry beamed, dimples deep and big teeth on display. “Good,” he said. “I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Niall, blushing and rolling his eyes.

“I have.”

They headed to St James’s Gate next, taking a tour of the Guinness Storehouse and having lunch at 1837 Bar & Brasserie. They shared a dozen oysters paired with Guinness Draught at their waiter’s suggestion before eating their main courses—a Cobb salad and a pint of Golden Ale for Harry and a burger and fries with more Guinness Draught for Niall—and then splitting a Guinness chocolate mousse.

They left, walking with no real destination but just enjoying the nice crisp autumn day and the sun shining through the clouds and each other’s company.

“Niall,” said Harry as they turned off of Lord Edward Street onto Parliament Street, “let’s get tattoos!”

“No way,” said Niall quickly. “I mean, you can. But I don’t like needles. At all.”

Harry dragged Niall into a tattoo shop called Reinkarnated, assuring him that he wouldn’t make him get a tattoo.

“You lads looking to get tattoos?” asked a girl with long hair and a tattoo on her neck as they walked through the door.

“Just me,” said Harry.

“What are you looking to get done?” she asked. “I’m Kim, by the way.”

“I’m Harry,” said Harry. “And this is my boyfriend Niall. I’m just thinking, like, maybe a little shamrock somewhere.”

Kim and Harry talked for a few minutes about the tattoo and possible placement ideas but Niall paid no attention to the discussion. He was too focused on the fact that Harry had introduced him as his boyfriend; there was no need for him to pretend to be Niall’s boyfriend anymore now that the wedding was over and they were returning to London the next day.

Kim went into the back of the studio to sketch a shamrock, returning a few minutes later with a piece of paper from a sketchpad with a small shamrock drawn on it. Harry declared it perfect and Kim disappeared again, this time to set up her station and make a transfer for the tattoo.

“You told her I’m your boyfriend,” said Niall after Kim left to get everything ready for Harry.

“Yup,” agreed Harry, flipping through the artist portfolio he was holding.

“But I’m not,” said Niall.

Harry didn’t say anything for a few moments, didn’t look up from the portfolio. “You needed a fake boyfriend for the weekend and the weekend’s not over yet.”

“I needed a boyfriend for the wedding,” said Niall, “not the whole—”

“All right, mate,” came Kim’s voice from the door that led from the waiting area to the studio. “Everything’s all set.”

Harry stood up and took a few steps toward Kim. “Are you coming?” he asked, turning to look at Niall where he still sat on the bench.

“I- I guess so,” said Niall, a little surprised. “Do you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” said Harry with a tone in his voice that hinted that he was just as surprised that Niall asked that question as Niall was that Harry wanted him to come watch while he got the tattoo. “Unless it’s going to make you sick or something.”

“No,” said Niall, “I’ll be fine. Gone with me mates before.”

“Good.”

Niall got up and followed Harry and Kim into the studio and to the area she’d prepared.

“Can bring a stool over if ya want to be closer,” said Kim, pointing at a few low stools along the wall. Harry sat down at the chair and Niall moved one of the stools over beside him.

“So why a shamrock?” asked Kim as she began, cleaning Harry’s skin and placing the transfer on the side of his wrist.

Harry looked at Niall and gave a smile, almost shy, and said, “Don’t want to forget my weekend in Dublin with my little leprechaun.”

“Aw,” cooed Kim. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” agreed Niall quietly, blushing. “It is.”

They were quiet as Kim worked—Niall was surprised to see how quickly the process went, though he supposed the tattoo was quite small—and watched as Kim cleaned the tattoo and put a small bandage on it once she’d finished. Harry paid and thanked her, telling her maybe he would see her again sometime, and led Niall out onto the pavement, Niall’s hand slipped into his own.

They walked, again with no real destination, stopping at Butlers on Wicklow Street for more hot chocolate, holding hands as they’d done their first night in Dublin.

“When’s your flight tomorrow?” asked Niall as they walked through St Stephen’s Green.

“Um, 11:20,” Harry told him. “Ryanair.”

“We’re on the same flight, then,” said Niall. “Probably won’t have seats together though.”

They walked along King Street South and Johnson Place, Harry looking in the windows of several shops and begging Niall to go into CLOTH to look at the huge selection of fabrics for sale—Niall agreed half-heartedly but was glad they’d gone in as soon as he saw how excited Harry was to be in the shop, moving around and eagerly pointing out fabrics he liked like a kid in a candy store—before making their way to crackbird on Dame Street for chicken wings and potato salad and some lemonades.

“Let’s get a cab,” said Harry when they stepped out onto the street after finishing their dinner.

“It’s not far, Harry.”

“It’s getting chilly, kitten,” Harry told him. “Don’t want you to be cold.”

Niall couldn’t deny that it was getting a bit cool out so he let Harry hail a cab to bring them back to their hotel.

In their room, they decided to watch a movie before going to sleep. They striped to their pants and cuddled together on the bed, Harry’s head rested on Niall’s shoulder while Niall scrolled through the movie options on Netflix.

“Could watch _Wedding Crashers_ ,” said Niall, thinking that they’d not watched it the other night and it was a pretty funny movie.

“Mmmm,” hummed Harry noncommittally, turning his head to press open-mouthed kisses to Niall’s neck.

“Could, um, we could watch—” His words caught in his throat when Harry started to mouth along his collarbone. “Ohh.” He fumbled with the buttons on the remote, trying to continue his search for a movie.

Harry’s lips moved back up the length of Niall’s throat and placed kisses to his jaw.

“You could kiss me,” mumbled Harry, teeth catching Niall’s earlobe and nibbling gently.

Niall exhaled, feeling a little dizzy already, and threw the remote to the foot of the bed. “Yeah,” he said, no longer pretending to try to find a movie to watch, “I- I could.” He turned his head and caught Harry’s lips with his own, kissing him sweetly for a few moments.

Harry lifted himself up, lips still on Niall’s, and straddled Niall’s hips. He moaned, deepening the kiss, and allowed Niall to press his tongue between his plump lips. Their tongues played together, their senses on edge, and Harry ground himself down against Niall.

Niall pivoted his hips, grinding against Harry, and panted into Harry’s mouth. Harry placed his forehead to Niall’s and closed his eyes, breath heavy against Niall’s lips.

“Please, Niall,” whined Harry, sounding overwhelmed and broken, “can I finger you? Let me finger your pretty arse. Please.”

“Oh God,” sighed Niall, so turned on and a little in love with the desperation lacing Harry’s request.

“Please, Niall? Can I please open you up?” begged Harry, lips brushing Niall’s lips. “Let me open you up for me?” He moved his hand down to Niall’s hip, massaging the flesh with his fingers. “Please.”

Niall’s breathing was ragged. “Yeah, pet. Open me up.” He opened his eyes to watch Harry as he said his next words, curious to see how he would react. “Be good- be good for me, pet.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with lust, and said so sweetly, “I’ll be so good, Niall.”

“I know, pet,” Niall told him with a gentle smile. “Let me lie down, yeah, so you can open me up.” He patted Harry’s thigh and the boy moved himself off Niall’s lap.

Niall positioned himself so he was lying down on his back next to Harry. He looked up at Harry and smiled.

“You’re so pretty, Niall,” said Harry, sounding awed.

“So are you, pet,” Niall told him. “So beautiful. Now come on, love. Take off me pants.”

Harry leant down, his body nearly covering Niall’s, and kissed the boy. “Okay, Niall,” he whispered. “Okay.” He knelt back and slipped his fingers into the waistband of Niall’s pants, pulling them down and revealing Niall’s semi-hard cock.

He threw the boxers to the side and bent down to lick at the head of Niall’s length.

Niall let him suck his cock for a few minutes, licking and suckling at the tip and drooling down the firm flesh, before saying, “Okay, pet, that’s enough. Be good, open me up, yeah.”

Harry leant back, lips wet and so pink, looking guilty, like a child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do. “I’m sorry, Niall.”

“Don’t be sorry, love,” said Niall gently, reaching out to squeeze Harry’s thigh. “Just want you to open me up now.”

“Can I?” asked Harry, sounding as though Niall had just granted him his biggest wish. He looked at Niall, waiting for confirmation.

“Yes, pet. Want ya to.”

“Will you please turn onto your tummy?” Harry asked so politely and Niall did, rolling over to lie on his stomach. Niall felt the weight shift on the bed as Harry stood up—Niall correctly guessed he was looking for the lube from the night before—and then returned.

“Can I open you up, please?” asked Harry again.

“Yeah, pet,” said Niall a little impatiently because he’d already told Harry that he wanted that several times.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry quietly, as though he’d picked up Niall’s impatience in his tone.

“Don’t be, love,” said Niall soothingly. “Just want you to finger me so much. Open me up.”

He realised now that Harry wanted—needed—to be given permission. He wondered briefly if it was Harry’s way of being sure that Niall was consenting to everything they did but then another thought occurred to him.

Niall had never been in a Dominant/submissive relationship before so he wasn’t sure but it seemed that Harry wanted Niall to be in control, to tell him what he could and couldn’t do; he’d wanted to be good for Niall, to do whatever Niall wanted, and had been sweet and so eager to please when he’d told Niall he would be good for him.

“You’ve got such a pretty arse,” Harry told Niall.

And finally— _finally_ —Harry slipped a lubed finger between Niall’s arse cheeks and stroked over his hole.

He rubbed his hole with a firm pressure before letting up, ghosting over Niall’s arse with the lightest touch. He teased Niall for several minutes and Niall felt a damp patch of his own precum forming on the sheet below him.

And then Harry pressed the very tip of his middle finger into Niall’s waiting hole, barely breaching the entrance. He swirled it in small circles, driving Niall mad with want, before pressing in nearly to the first knuckle. He stilled, the first half inch of his finger in Niall’s hole, leaving Niall begging for more.

“More?” asked Harry softly, wiggling his finger but not pressing in any farther.

“Fuck,” moaned Niall. “More!”

Harry forced his entire finger into Niall’s willing body and Niall felt more precum dampen the sheet.

“Can I stretch you out, Niall?” asked Harry, fucking Niall steadily with his middle finger. “Can I give you more?”

“Yeah, God,” groaned Niall, pressing his hips back to meet Harry’s finger. “Give me- give me as much as you can.”

Harry continued with the first finger, twisting and turning and fucking Niall at a near-lazy pace.

“Fuck, Harry, come on,” begged Niall after several minutes. “Stretch me!”

“I will, kitten,” said Harry. “I’m watching how you open for me.”

Niall gasped, surprised by Harry’s words. There was something so intimate and tender in the way he said them.

Harry eventually added a second and, after a while spent watching Niall open a bit more for him, a third finger.

“It’s so beautiful,” Harry told him as he added a fourth finger. “It’s like- it’s like you were made to fit me.”

Niall blushed, stunned again by Harry’s words; he’d had guys tell him that he was born to suck cock, made to be fucked, but never that he was made to fit them specifically. Again he was struck by the intimacy in Harry’s statement.

“Can I lick you?” asked Harry as he fucked Niall with four fingers, sounding soft and submissive again. “Can I please? I just- I really want to rim you.”

“Yeah, pet,” said Niall, voice strained. “Yeah, please. I- I want you to.”

Fingers still deep in Niall’s hole, Harry adjusted his position so he was lying on his stomach, his face at Niall’s arse. He flicked his tongue out, tracing the edge of Niall’s rim where it stretched around his fingers.

“Ooohhh,” whimpered Niall, the added sensation overwhelming. His breath came in harsh pants while Harry dragged his tongue around his hole, licking between his fingers and prodding at Niall’s entrance. Niall felt Harry’s spit adding to the slick of the lube and his own precum, the sheet below him messy.

“Niall, please,” whined Harry. “Please will you ride me? Like last night? Please. I’m so- I’m so hard for you.”

It took Niall a moment to clear his head, his thoughts buried beneath a thick cloud of arousal.

“God, pet, yes,” said Niall breathlessly. “Yes, I’ll ride you. Roll over, love. Let me ride you.”

Harry moaned and pushed himself onto his back, head on a pillow and cock hard and sticky with his own arousal.

“Condom,” said Niall. “Where—”

“My bag,” Harry told him. “The little pouch. Inside.”

Niall moved quickly, finding a condom in Harry’s bag, and tore open the packet. With deft fingers, Niall rolled it down Harry’s length and coated it with several drops of lube.

“I’m gonna ride you now, pet,” whispered Niall. “You’re gonna fill me up, aren’t you, love?”

“Yes.”

“You’re such a good boy, so sweet,” said Niall, voice filled with fondness and affection. He reached down to position Harry’s cock at his open hole and lowered himself down slowly, feeling Harry stretch and fill him.

He lifted himself up and then lowered himself again, taking all of Harry’s big cock, and kept a slow steady pace.

“You’re so beautiful, Niall,” said Harry, a blissed-out smile on his face. “I’m so lucky.”

“Yeah, pet?” asked Niall, rising and falling.

“Even if you won’t be mine tomorrow.” Harry gave Niall another smile, his eyes sparkling with tears.

“H-Harry?”

“Please kiss me, kitten,” said Harry, eyes fluttering. “Please?”

Without a word, Niall bent forward and placed his lips to Harry’s, kissing him deeply and hoping Harry knew what he was feeling because he wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling but it was a little painful.

They kissed, Niall’s hips still rising and falling at a leisurely rhythm, Harry’s hands squeezing Niall’s hips gently.

“So lovely,” whispered Niall, lips grazing Harry’s cheekbone as he pressed kisses to the beautiful planes of his face. “So lovely, Harry, letting me use you. Being so good for me.”

“Want to be good for you,” said Harry, face smooth and eyes glassy.

“Flip me over, pet, and show me how good you are.”

With a strength that Niall hadn’t realised Harry possessed—which was a bit silly given that Niall had seen how toned Harry was—he wrapped his arms around Niall’s back and flipped them over, the smaller boy on his back underneath Harry.

“Gonna be so good for you, Niall,” said Harry dreamily, giving Niall a sweet smile. He leant forward and placed his forearms on the mattress on either side of Niall, hovering over the boy and placing soft kisses to his lips. He began to fuck into Niall, starting a faster rhythm but not rough or forceful.

Niall moaned, feeling his orgasm approaching, and started thrusting his hips toward Harry, his hard cock rubbing against Harry’s abs.

“Please cum for me, kitten,” begged Harry. “Please. I’ve been so good for you. Please cum for me.”

“God, pet,” said Niall, choked. “Been perfect. So- Oh, _fuck_ ,” he came with a groan, his hips stuttering and stilling as he climaxed, his cum smearing onto both his and Harry’s stomachs. “So perfect.”

Harry whined, high and reedy, as his own orgasm washed over him. He leant down, forehead pressed to Niall’s and eyes shut tight. “Niall, Niall,” he panted, lips hot and wet against Niall’s. Once his breathing had returned to normal, he captured Niall’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit lightly. “So good.”

“Gonna run us a bath, pet,” Niall told him ten minutes later. “Get you all nice and pretty and smelling like that lavender bubble bath they’ve got in there.”

Harry turned his head on the pillow and gave Niall the biggest smile. “Okay, Niall.”

Niall returned from the bathroom soon after, announcing that the bath was ready, and led a drowsy Harry to the tub.

They slipped into the bubbly water, hot and relaxing, and soaked in the lavender-scented steam.

“Gonna wash you up, love,” said Niall, doting and fond. He took a bar of soap and washed himself quickly before rubbing it along Harry’s back and chest, under his armpits, and down to his arse and soft cock. He dampened Harry’s hair and then found a bottle of shampoo—lavender like the bubble bath—and squeezed a large dollop onto Harry’s head. He worked it into a lather, massaging Harry’s scalp with his fingertips and earning a contented purr from Harry. He finished, rinsing the suds out of Harry’s dark hair, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling Harry’s back against his wet chest.

“You’re so lovely, Harry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Harry’s neck. “So lovely. You think- you think you’re lucky but I’m the lucky one. This whole weekend was like a dream.”

“Mmmmm.” Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting it rest on Niall’s shoulder, and Niall kissed along the exposed length of his neck. “Let’s just stay tucked up in this room forever. No one will notice.”

Niall chuckled lightly. “Think someone’ll notice soon enough, pet.”

Harry pouted, plump bottom lip sticking out.

“I know,” agreed Niall. “Now let’s get out of the tub and dry off.”

“No,” whined Harry quietly.

“Pet, the water’s all gone cold.”

Niall finally coaxed Harry out of the tub and back into the room. They climbed into the bed and cuddled together, lying on their sides and exchanging lazy kisses as they drifted off to sleep.

Niall woke up the next morning to the sound of the alarm he’d set on his phone and Harry curled up in his arms. He got up and out of bed, showering and ordering room service—two full Irish breakfasts, one without the black pudding, and a pot of Earl Grey—before waking Harry up gently, brushing the hair that had dried into curls back from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“It’s time to wake up, pet,” he said quietly. “We’ve got to get ready. Got to pack up and- and get ready to leave.”

“No, Niall,” whined Harry, half asleep.

“Got to, love,” said Niall, though he wished they didn’t have to leave too. “Can’t miss our flight.”

Harry got out of bed when breakfast arrived, pleased that Niall had ordered his without the black pudding, and sat on Niall’s lap in his boxer briefs eating his meal.

Niall began to pack up his luggage while Harry showered. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, nervous to see Harry when he got out of the shower. Part of him considered leaving before Harry was finished in the bathroom, grabbing his suitcase and running before he had to see Harry again.

He knew he couldn’t, though, knew he had to spend as much time with Harry as he had left.

When Harry stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, body covered with droplets of water that looked unfairly perfect on Harry’s torso, Niall averted his eyes, embarrassed, as though he hadn’t bathed Harry’s naked body the night before. As though he hadn’t had Harry’s cock in his arse and his hands all over his body.

Harry noticed Niall’s uneasiness and was careful to leave the towel around his waist as he slipped on his pants, quickly pulling up his jeans and dragging his oversized black _I love New York_ jumper over his head.

They didn’t talk much as they finished packing up, checking to make sure they’d not missed anything in the bathroom or under the bed before grabbing their bags and leaving the room.

They checked out, leaving the key at the front desk and thanking them for a pleasant stay.

They took the Aircoach back to the airport, the reverse of what they’d done only three days earlier, and got their tickets and checked their bags. They made their way through security and to their gate, making only small talk.

It was awkward, Niall knew, and he didn’t really understand the shift but he hated it. They’d got on so well, had fit together so effortlessly, and now it was difficult to enjoy his last bit of time with Harry because it was uncomfortable and he really didn’t know how to say goodbye; he didn’t know if he should thank Harry for his services or tell him he’d enjoyed his company tremendously. He had no idea what the proper etiquette was—if a proper etiquette existed—for this type of situation.

“I’m going to use the toilet,” said Harry. “Don’t fancy using the one on the plane. Makes me a bit motion sick.” He dropped his bag in front of a row of seats. “Do you mind watching my bag?”

“No, o’course,” said Niall, feeling a little guilty because he knew it was his fault that Harry was feeling awkward around him now; only the day before Harry wouldn’t have felt the need to ask Niall if he would watch his bag.

Harry returned several minutes later with two cups of Butlers hot chocolate. “Who knows when we’ll have this again!” said Harry, trying to sound cheery and light-hearted.

“Reckon I will when I’m back for Christmas,” said Niall, taking the proffered paper cup from the boy. “Thanks, pet.”

“You’re welcome, kitten.”

They drank their hot chocolates and made occasional small talk, mostly scrolling through their phones to waste time until their flight was called for boarding.

When their flight was finally announced, Harry and Niall stood from their seats and grabbed their bags.

“We should probably say goodbye now,” said Harry with a sad little smile. “Just in case we don’t see each other when we land, you know.”

“Right,” said Niall curtly. “Well, thanks. For everything. You made a very convincing fake boyfriend. Don’t think my family suspected anything.”

“Yeah, I think we pulled it off.” Harry chuckled and gave Niall a fond smile. “It was my pleasure.”

“Okay. Well, goodbye, Harry,” said Niall, reaching out his hand for a handshake.

“Nah, come on, kitten,” said Harry, pulling Niall in for a hug. “I think we passed the handshake point a few nights ago.”

Niall laughed. “Probably.”

Their flight was called again and they headed to queue, lining up to board the plane.

The flight was still boarding when Harry made his way back to Niall.

“Excuse me,” he said to the woman sitting in the seat next to Niall, “would you mind switching seats with me? Just seat 19D, up there? I’d just like to sit with my boyfriend.”

To Niall’s surprise, the woman agreed. Harry helped her grab her carry-on from the overhead bin and slid into the empty seat.

“You needed a fake boyfriend for the wedding,” said Harry, “and now I need a fake boyfriend so I don’t have to sit up there with that little boy kicking the back of my seat.” He smirked. “Besides, you’re really cute.”

Niall laughed. “You’re terrible, sending that poor lady up to deal with that.”

Harry shrugged, a crooked smile on his face.

They settled on watching the in-flight movie, Niall’s head rested on Harry’s shoulder. They’d been in the air for barely ten minutes when Niall fell asleep, his breathing steady and slow against Harry’s neck.

Harry was far more interested in Niall than he was the movie—something with Matt Damon and Jim from _The Office_ and a storyline that hadn’t really piqued Harry’s attention—and spent an embarrassing amount of the flight nuzzling his nose into Niall’s lavender-scented hair and pressing little kisses to the top of Niall’s head.

He took Niall’s hand in his own, stroking Niall’s wrist and the back of his hand with his thumb, while he thought about the past three days.

Harry had never really been interested in having a relationship, had never really cared about having a boyfriend before. It wasn’t that he was afraid of commitment, as people usually assumed, but just that he was happy on his own. Harry liked sexual intimacy, had no problem with the occasional one-night stand or cheeky hook-up, but had never cared about the romantic aspect of a relationship.

But he realised now, as this three-night stand was coming to an end, that he wasn’t looking forward to his time with Niall ending. He’d enjoyed being with Niall. The sex had been phenomenal—easily the best he’d ever had—but he’d liked going out for lunch and eating breakfast with Niall, had liked their days spent wandering around Dublin, had loved waking up beside Niall, and had never experienced anything as tender and caring as Niall’s gentle fingers washing his hair.

He’d loved everything, even just holding Niall’s hand like he was doing now.

Just as the movie ended, though Harry hadn’t paid it any attention, the pilot announced that they would be landing.

“Niall,” Harry whispered, “kitten, wake up. Got to get ready to land.”

“Harry?” said Niall, after a few moments, lifting his head from Harry’s shoulder slightly and turning his face toward the boy. He opened his eyes and blinked away the sleep. His hair was sleep-mussed, his lips pouty, and Harry couldn’t resist taking Niall’s face in his hands and kissing his little pink lips.

They landed soon after and walked to baggage claim together, Harry holding Niall’s hand. Niall wasn’t sure why Harry was still holding his hand, still acting like a boyfriend, but he liked it and wouldn’t stop him in the last few minutes they had together.

They arrived at the baggage carousel, waiting for their bags to appear.

“I’ve got to say this or I’ll regret it,” said Harry suddenly, breaking Niall’s attention away from the moving carousel. “I was thinking about it the whole time, like, on the flight.” He took a deep breath and continued, his speech even slower than usual, deliberate and measured. “I really like you, Niall. A lot. From the minute I saw you waiting for me in baggage claim. Probably even before that,” he mused. “You’re just so easy to be around, so pleasant and lovely, and everything- everything just felt so… natural with you. The whole- the whole weekend was just so perfect. Like a dream, you said.”

“Y-yeah,” said Niall quietly, hesitant to believe Harry was saying what he hoped he was saying.

“I loved- I loved visiting Ireland with you. I don’t- I don’t think Dublin would be the same without you,” continued Harry, sounding a little nervous. “I liked your family too. Your mum’s probably the sweetest mum alive and, like, I thought my mum was the sweetest mum alive.”

Niall chuckled. “Just don’t get on her bad side. That’ll change your mind.”

Harry smiled—Niall’s joke seemed to help put him at ease a bit more—and he said, “And, like, sex with you was- it was, like, the best sex I’ve ever had. You knew just what- just what to say and do to me and- I’ve never felt so… cared for.” He blushed at his admission. “And I feel like, I mean, I think you enjoyed it too.”

Niall nodded. “Yeah. Everyone- everyone expects me to be submissive because I bottom,” he said. “I liked that… you didn’t.”

Harry smiled again. “I think, like, every guy I’ve ever been with wanted me to be dominant and, like, aggressive. But I’m not.” He shrugged. “I want- Well, you know. I like to be given permission and, like, and to be given… direction? I guess? But I don’t think- I don’t think I’m, like, a sub or whatever.”

“Nah, you’re just sweet,” said Niall with a fond little smile.

Harry blushed. “I really- I really don’t want to walk out of this airport and never see you again. I really like you.” He looked imploringly at Niall. “I didn’t get this shamrock tattoo for no reason.”

Niall looked at Harry, studying his face and trying to determine if he was being genuine. “Are you- are you serious?” he finally managed to say.

Harry gave a little laugh and said with a grin, “Yes. And I’d like- I’d like to take you on a first date. Like, a real one this time.”

Niall laughed too, big and bright and loud. “We’ve got the practice already!”

Harry’s eyes crinkled up as he laughed harder, a huge smile on his face, and Niall was reminded of the first time he’d heard Harry laugh three days earlier while they stood at baggage claim. He thought again how much he liked Harry’s laugh.

“I’ll plan it, yeah,” said Harry. “You showed me all around Dublin.”

“Yeah, fine,” grumbled Niall good-naturedly, grinning to show he wasn’t really upset. “When?”

“How’s tonight?”

“Sounds all right,” said Niall. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry told him, eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t stand me up,” said Harry, half joking and half concerned.

Niall gave him a gentle smile and stepped toward him. Standing in front of Harry, he tipped his head up and kissed his lips, firm and purposeful, hoping that Harry would understand that he felt the same way, that he liked Harry just as much as Harry liked him. “I won’t,” he finally whispered, lips against Harry’s.

“Promise?” asked Harry.

Niall kissed him again, a soft peck.

They grabbed their bags—the only two left on the carousel—and left the airport, the promise of a date exciting both of them.

Niall had just walked into his flat when his phone whistled, notifying him of a text from Harry.

_Do you like Indian food?_

_Yes_ , answered Niall.

A second message followed Niall’s response. _Wait are you afraid of heights?_

_No but i don’t like small spaces. Major claustrophobia_

_Poor kitten_ , responded Harry. _Shouldn’t be a problem love_.

Niall decided to unpack, opening Spotify and putting on the 1950s radio station. He unzipped his bag and set about his task, putting clothes in his laundry basket and hanging his suit in his closet.

Suitcase empty and contents put away, Niall headed to the kitchen. He grabbed a bag of crisps, ripping open the packet and pulling out a handful.

“Do you remember when we met?” he sang along with Phil Phillips. “That’s the day I knew you were my pet. I wanna tell you how much I love you.”

His phone whistled again and he crossed the room to where it was plugged into the charging cable.

_Meet me at Jubilee Gardens at 7?_

Niall smiled to himself, a guess as to what Harry had planned for their first date in mind.

Niall left his flat at 6:30 and walked to the Bethnal Green station. He transferred at Tottenham Court Road and took the train to the Embankment station.

 _Where are you?_ he asked Harry, realising that, while the Jubilee Gardens weren’t that big, it might be easier to have a more specific meeting spot.

 _Just got off the tube at Charing Cross. Be there in like 10_ , said Harry.

_I just got off at Embankment. Meet me at the Footbridge steps on Northumberland?_

Harry’s response came quickly. _Be there in a couple minutes!_

“Niall! Kitten,” Niall heard a few minutes later. He looked up and saw Harry loping toward him, a giant smile on his face. He stopped in front of Niall and, with a note of relief in his tone—Niall wondered if Harry had really been concerned he might stand him up—said, “Hi, kitten!”

Niall chuckled. “Hi, pet.”

“I forgot to ask if you like gin,” said Harry.

“Um, yeah,” said Niall, “I like most alcohol.”

“Good, because this place makes the most amazing gin and tonics with, like, cardamom syrup and plums and stuff,” Harry told him, taking his hand and leading him down the street.

They arrived at a little restaurant on Maiden Lane—the sign above the pretty green awning said _Cinnamon Bazaar_ and the front of the building was painted a dusty rose and seemed so very Harry—and entered.

They were led to a table and offered menus.

“This place is so pretty,” said Niall, looking around the restaurant’s interior, because there was no other word for the space.

“It’s one of my favourite restaurants,” Harry told him, beaming, obviously so happy that Niall seemed to like it so far.

They ordered drinks; Niall got the gin and tonic Harry had mentioned with cardamom syrup—the menu called it The Snake Charmer—and Harry got one called The Lady of the Bazaar with plums and rose water.

“Oh my God,” said Niall when their drinks arrived. “Are those rose petals?”

“Yes,” said Harry, unabashed, eyes glittering as he took a sip of his gin and tonic. “I think they make the drink pretty.”

“They do, pet,” said Niall soothingly, not wanting Harry to think he was making fun of him.

Dinner passed pleasantly—Niall declared his lamb curry the best he’d ever eaten—and they left the restaurant, walking across the Footbridge to the Jubilee Gardens.

“Are we going on the London Eye?” asked Niall.

Harry’s face fell. “It was supposed to be a surprise!” he said, sounding so disappointed.

“Pet,” said Niall, trying his hardest not to laugh, “you asked me if I was afraid of heights and then asked me to meet you here.”

Harry pouted. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“It’ll still be wonderful, Harry,” Niall told him. “I’ve never been on the London Eye. I’m pretty excited.”

“You’ve never- Niall!” said Harry, sounding shocked. “You’ve lived in London for six years and you’ve never been on the London Eye?”

“Nope,” said Niall, shrugging.

“I love the London Eye!” exclaimed Harry. “I come here a lot.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “It’s especially pretty at night. I think it’s romantic.”

“Do you bring all your dates here, then?” asked Niall.

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “I always come alone.”

They checked in and Niall was surprised to see that Harry had already booked the Hotel Chocolat Tasting Experience, complete with a glass of Prosecco and an hour-long ride.

“Harry!” hissed Niall as they were ushered onto their capsule. “I can’t believe—”

“Shh, kitten,” said Harry. “It’s a date. I wanted it to be special.”

“It’s just- Harry, you already paid for dinner,” argued Niall. “At least let me pay you back for this.”

“No, Niall,” said Harry firmly. “It’s a date. And I really want to show you the things that I like. You showed me some of the things you like, in Dublin. I just want to share the things I like with you.”

Niall looked at Harry, a little taken aback by his reasoning. “That’s really- that’s really sweet.” He gave Harry a crooked smile. “Do you always plan such impressive first dates?”

“Don’t often have first dates,” Harry told him.

Niall wondered what, exactly, that meant. He knew Harry had never had a proper boyfriend—he’d admitted he’d never really wanted one before—but he also knew Harry had slept with multiple guys. He wondered if Harry just pulled random guys when he went out and decided he’d rather not know.

They tasted a multitude of chocolates and truffles and each drank a glass of Prosecco, enjoying the views over the river and their time together.

When their ride was over, Harry led Niall back to the Gardens, arm around his waist as he tucked him close to his side.

“This was the best first date I’ve ever been on,” Niall told Harry as they strolled through the Gardens.

Harry smiled, his big front teeth on display, and said, “That makes me so- I’m so happy you said that.” He looked contemplative for a moment and then finally added, “I think it’s the second-best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh,” said Niall, a little hurt because he wanted this to be Harry’s favourite first date too.

“My first favourite was the first night in Dublin.” He turned to looked at Niall. “When we went out to Grafton Street and drank hot chocolate and had dinner at that Thai place. And then we watched _Pretty Woman_ but you fell asleep and your shirt was all bunched up and I could see your tummy and I just wanted to kiss it but I didn’t because I knew—”

Niall caught Harry by surprise, kissing Harry and stopping his slow rambling. He tasted the chocolate and Prosecco on Harry’s lips and tongue. Harry pulled him flush against his longer body, holding him so closely, and a little whimper escaped his lips.

“Let me get you a cab,” said Harry, lips brushing Niall’s kiss-swollen lips. “Get you home all nice and safe.”

“No, Harry,” said Niall. “You’ve already spent too much on me tonight. I’ll just take the tube home.”

“Kitten, I just want you to get home safe. Don’t want anything to happen to you,” Harry told him, arm still around his waist.

“Just walk me to Embankment,” said Niall, “and I’ll text you when I get home.”

Niall did as promised, texting Harry when he got back to his flat. He stripped down to his pants and cuddled under the fluffy blankets on his bed, taking a selfie that Niall knew without being told was remarkably soft and sweet and boyfriend-y. He sent that to Harry too.

He got a response a few minutes later. _Tease_ , it read. And then, seconds after, _Good night, kitten! xo_

Harry and Niall texted a lot over the next several days, a near-constant back-and-forth of messages. They told each other bits from their daily routine— _Stopped at the bakery on my way to work to get tea and a muffin and they have kiwi custard tarts. I might buy one!_ and _Theres someone on the tube with a red Donald Duck jumper. Is that you Gucci?_ —and complained about co-workers, rude people in line at Starbucks, and inconsiderate neighbours— _who moves furniture at 3 in the morning?!_

Niall sent Harry a few selfies, mostly at night when he was getting cozy in bed, and Harry responded with the heart-eyes emoji and things like _Look at my sweet kitten_ or _God you’re the cutest lad ever_. The selfie he sent after he’d just got off the pitch after his five-a-side football match—he was sweaty and flushed, his hair stuck to his forehead—received a different type of response from Harry; he’d texted, and Niall had hidden his phone so Liam and Louis wouldn’t see the message, _Fuck I want to suck your cock right now_.

They made plans to spend Saturday together, both excited to see each other.

 _I never thought i would miss someone I’ve only known for a week this much_ , said Harry and Niall agreed.

Harry was thrilled to plan their second date, arguing that Niall had planned their entire first weekend together. Niall rolled his eyes when he read the text but remembered what Harry had told him before they got on the London Eye—he wanted to show Niall the things he liked—and since it had seemed important to him, he agreed.

Niall woke up on Saturday morning with nervous excitement bubbling in his stomach. It was silly, he knew, because although they were both calling this their second date, they were past the second-date point in their relationship.

Still, it was with that nervous excitement spreading through his body that he got ready for his day, showering and dressing and eating breakfast while he scrolled through Twitter.

At just about eleven o’clock, there was a knock on Niall’s door. He answered it, happy to find Harry on the other side.

“G’morning, pet,” said Niall with a huge grin.

“Morning, kitten.” Harry leant forward and kissed Niall on the lips, a little peck that was as sweet and innocent as the crisp autumn day outside. “I brought hot chocolate. I know it’s not Butlers but it’s from my favourite cafe. It’s called Black Treacle and they make the best pastries. They use Valrhona chocolate and I think it’s a really nice cup of hot chocolate.” He handed Niall the paper cup, sounding a little nervous. “I hope you like it.”

Niall agreed that it was a very good cup of hot chocolate and allowed Harry to lead him to the Bethnal Green station. They got off the tube twenty minutes later at the Green Park station and began to walk in the direction of Buckingham Palace.

“Buckingham Palace?” asked Niall, looking skeptical. “Isn’t it maybe, like, a little too… touristy?”

“Niall,” responded Harry, unabashed in a way Niall was beginning to think only Harry could achieve, “when was the last time you went on a tour of Buckingham Palace?”

“Um, never,” admitted Niall.

“Exactly!”

They toured the Queen’s Gallery and the Royal Mews, enjoying the art, carriages, horses, and—Harry’s favourite—the Gold State Coach.

“We’ll have to come back for the Changing of the Guard some day,” said Harry as he led Niall, hand in hand, to St James’s Park. “It’s really impressive. Kind of intense, honestly.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” said Niall, squeezing Harry’s hand lightly and giving him a smile; Harry’s enthusiasm for the things Niall had always considered too touristy was making him realise that maybe it was okay to be touristy in your own city. And if Harry liked it, he would go with him.

They strolled through the Flower Beds and ate a late lunch at St James’s Cafe—Niall insisted on paying—before visiting the pelicans at Duck Island Cottage for feeding time.

As they walked along, Niall realised that Harry had been right at the airport; everything with Harry felt natural and comfortable. He enjoyed Harry’s company. Just his presence was enough to make Niall feel happy and warm.

They took the Underground from St James’s Park to Aldgate Station and walked to Swingers, a crazy golf club where they played a round of golf on both of the nine-hole courses. They ate enough tacos, nachos, and guacamole with tortilla chips for eight people and tried a more-than-advisable variety of the club’s specialty cocktails.

“This is so fun!” said Niall loudly over the music the DJ was playing. “The people who thought of this were brilliant!”

“I knew you’d like it!” Harry told him, his huge smile pressing dimples into his alcohol-flushed cheeks. “I know you like alcohol and food. And you play golf! I’ve seen all of your pictures on Instagram and you sent me that Snap while you were watching the golf channel.”

Niall laughed. “Crazy golf isn’t really the same thing though, pet.”

“It’s close enough,” said Harry with a shrug.

“I’m going to teach you how to golf.”

“I’d like that,” said Harry. “Got to warn you, I’ll probably be rubbish.”

“Based on the way you play crazy golf, I’d have to agree,” said Niall with a smirk.

“Hey!” pouted Harry.

“Just teasin’, pet,” said Niall, stepping closer to the lad and tilting his head up to kiss him softly. He pulled back and said quietly, “You taste like strawberries.”

“I think I’ve forgot what you taste like,” said Harry boldly. “Maybe- maybe we should leave so I can find out.”

Niall looked at Harry with hungry, lust-filled eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “reckon we should. Come back to mine?”

“Yes, please,” said Harry, always polite.

They made the short trip to Niall’s flat, Harry eager and pressing his hardening length against Niall’s bum while Niall unlocked his door.

“Please, Niall,” Harry whined into Niall’s ear, long arms wrapped around his shoulders, “let me touch you. I wanna get you hard.”

“Fuck, pet,” hissed Niall. “I already am. Yeh’ve been rubbing your cock against me arse and begging to wank me off for the past fifteen minutes!”

“Finally,” mumbled Harry impatiently when Niall managed to open the door.

“Right,” said Niall brusquely, taking Harry’s hand and leading him into his flat, “kitchen”—he gestured toward the door to their left—“living room”—he nodded at the room they entered and continued through to an open door—“bedroom.”

He led Harry through the door and into his room, walking toward the bedside table to turn on the dim lamp. He looked up at Harry and found him standing, waiting expectantly with wide eyes, and said gently but with the bit of command Harry liked to be given, “Strip.”

Harry did as told, kicking off his brown boots and pulling his yellow jumper and black tee over his head. Niall watched as he dragged his skinny jeans down his long legs, lifting his feet clumsily until they came off.

“You’re not wearing any pants,” said Niall, a statement rather than a question.

Harry shook his head. “Niall, please,” he whispered, “can I see you?”

“Let me look at you for a minute first, love,” said Niall, eyes scanning Harry from head to toe. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“Please, Niall,” said Harry, hot and vulnerable under Niall’s gaze. “Please let me see you.”

“Okay, love.” Niall undressed, his fair skin finally bare.

Harry reached out and, as though realising he’d not been given permission, withdrew his hand quickly.

“You can touch me, pet,” Niall told him. “I want you to touch me.”

Harry looked relieved and moved his hands to Niall’s hips, drawing his smaller body against his own. He dipped his head down and kissed Niall.

Niall moaned into the kiss, pressing himself impossibly closer to Harry.

The kiss deepened, becoming desperate and sloppy, open-mouthed and hot.

“Want to wank you,” said Harry breathlessly. “Let me, please?”

“Yeah,” said Niall, reaching for one of Harry’s hands and bringing it down to wrap around his firm length. “Stroke, come on, pet.”

Harry began to move his hand up and down Niall’s cock, thumb swirling over the tip every time his palm cradled the head.

“Mmm,” moaned Niall, head tilted back as Harry pressed kisses to the length of his neck. “Gonna- I’m gonna sit, pet,” Niall told Harry, feeling his legs straining to hold himself up.

He backed up and sat at the edge of the bed, feet planted flat on the floor and legs spread slightly. “Can kneel,” he said to Harry, nodding at the empty space between his legs.

Harry immediately dropped to his knees and moved to his assigned spot. He reached out again and wrapped his long fingers around Niall’s cock, resuming his movements from moments before.

“So good, pet. You’re so lovely on your knees for me.”

Harry leant forward and kissed the tip of Niall’s length, looking up at him through his lashes as he pulled back.

“Can suck me if you want, love,” Niall told him.

Without a word, Harry closed his plump lips around Niall’s cock and slid his mouth down, taking all of Niall’s length in. He ran his tongue along the underside and then dragged his lips back up to the tip, swiping his tongue from side to side to taste all of Niall’s veined flesh. He continued the motions, taking Niall in deep enough that he almost gagged and then pulling back to suckle the tip.

After several minutes of the same steady pace, Harry stilled his movements and looked up at Niall with big, pleading eyes.

“What, pet?” asked Niall, coming out of his blissed-out daze to look down at Harry.

Harry relaxed his mouth, jaw going slack and lips loose.

“Do you want- I’m gonna fuck your mouth, pet,” Niall told Harry. “Be good and take it, yeah?”

Harry whimpered, pressing down on his own erection, and Niall took it as a yes.

He slid one hand down and tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Harry’s head. His other hand moved down to cup Harry’s chin and jaw, slipping two fingers into the boy’s mouth beside his cock and stretching his lips obscenely.

With another glance at Harry’s eyes, which still looked eager and willing, Niall thrust into Harry’s mouth. Harry choked and Niall smiled.

“Gonna be good?” asked Niall. Harry moaned and nodded his head as well as he could. “Yeah, you’re so lovely.”

Niall pulled his cock out until only the head rested on Harry’s tongue and then thrust back in, choking Harry again and watching as tears sprang to his eyes. He began a near-brutal rhythm, snapping his hips forward and then pulling back before forcing his cock down Harry’s throat again. Harry gagged and spluttered, spit dripping around Niall’s cock and fingers and down his chin.

“Take it,” groaned Niall, thrusting in until Harry’s lips were pressed against the base of his cock and holding his head in place while he ground against Harry’s face. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby.”

When Harry began to choke and gag, his throat convulsing around Niall’s cock, Niall pulled out completely and tugged Harry’s hair lightly to get the boy to look up at him.

“Too much, love?” he asked, a hint of concern in his tone.

“No,” said Harry, lips so swollen and red and tears staining his cheeks. “S’ good.” He gave Niall a contented little smile.

“So good for me,” said Niall, sounding almost awed. He took his cock in one hand and rubbed the tip all over Harry’s face, smearing spit and drool and precum over Harry’s lips and cheeks and chin. “Open,” he said and Harry parted his lips.

Niall slipped his cock back into Harry’s mouth, this time with three fingers, and thrust deep. He fucked in and out, his breath growing rough and uneven as his orgasm drew closer.

“Gonna make you a mess,” he told Harry, thrusting in one last time and pulling out. He stroked himself quickly, cock inches from Harry’s face. “Open your mouth.”

Harry opened his mouth just in time to catch a few drops of Niall’s cum on his tongue before Niall moved back and came across Harry’s face, pearlescent streaks on his lips, nose, and cheeks.

“Come here, pet,” said Niall softly and Harry moved onto the bed beside Niall. “Kiss me.”

Harry leant over and kissed Niall, surprised when Niall licked into his mouth.

“You taste like me, fuck,” moaned Niall against Harry’s lips, voice rough with arousal. He drew back and licked at his cum on Harry’s face, lapping at the drops that painted Harry’s face like a kitten with a bowl of milk.

“Niall,” whined Harry, desperate for his own release. “Please.”

“Please what, pet?”

“I want to- wanna fuck you,” said Harry almost shyly.

“Gonna stretch me out so good with your big cock?” asked Niall.

“Yes,” whimpered Harry. “I want- Do you- Niall, do you have a dildo?”

Niall looked at Harry. “Yeah, I do,” he told him. “You gonna open me up with my big dildo before you fuck me?”

“Mmmm,” sighed Harry, thinking about pushing an enormous dildo into Niall’s tight hole. He palmed his hard cock. “No. Want it- I want it up my arse when I fuck you.”

“Oh, fuck, Harry,” moaned Niall. “My good boy wants a fat cock up his arse while I ride his dick. Gonna fuck yourself for me, Harry? Put your hole and your cock to good use?”

His eyes widened at his own words, hoping he’d not gone too far and that he hadn’t offended Harry.

“Yes, Niall,” said Harry, voice desperate and laced with fondness. “Whatever you want.”

“So sweet, love,” cooed Niall, getting up from the bed and walking to his dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and bent down. When he stood up, Harry saw a large dildo and a tube of lube in his hands. He turned back to Harry and said sweetly, “I’m gonna open you up, love, and then I’ll ride you. Is that what you want?”

“So much, Niall, yes!”

Niall moved to the bed, laying Harry down and spreading him out across the mattress.

“You’re so beautiful for me, pet,” said Niall as he slid his hands under Harry’s knees and pressed them up against his chest. “Are you ready, Harry?”

“Please, Niall,” moaned Harry, sounding broken. “Please?”

Niall leant down and kissed Harry, just a gentle peck, and then knelt back. “Hold your legs for me, love.” Harry did, lifting his hands to replace Niall’s at the backs of his knees.

Niall squeezed some lube onto his fingers and reached down, rubbing the liquid around Harry’s tight hole. “Okay, love,” he said soothingly. He pressed a finger in slowly, to the first knuckle, and then pulled back out. He continued, going a bit deeper with each movement until he felt Harry was ready for a second.

“Are you- I’m gonna add a second finger, pet.”

Harry nodded and whimpered, “Please, Niall.”

Niall added a second and eventually a third finger, fucking Harry slowly and twisting his hand to prep him for the dildo.

Finally, when he thought Harry was ready, he picked up the dildo with his other hand and wedged it between his knees to steady it. He grabbed the lube and drizzled a fair amount of the liquid onto the head and then, throwing the tube to the side, smoothed it down the length of the large toy.

“I’m gonna fill you, pet. Stretch you like you want,” he told Harry, rubbing a slick hand along the back of his thigh.

Harry moaned as Niall removed his fingers from his arse and shuddered with anticipation when he felt the head of the dildo against his rim. Gently, Niall began to work the toy into Harry’s arse, pressing just the wide head of the toy in.

“Oh fuck!” exhaled Harry, voice shaky, when the dildo popped through the ring of tight muscle. “More!”

“More? Are you sure?” asked Niall, careful and a bit unsure because he’d never done this before, at least not this way around.

“Yes, Niall. More. Please?” begged Harry, mistaking Niall’s cautiousness with teasing.

“Yes, love,” said Niall. “I’ll give you more. So polite, aren’t you?” He pushed the dildo in further, watching Harry beneath him, face flushed and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Dildo in Harry’s hole nearly all the way, Niall twisted it. Harry moaned, panting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Niall!”

Niall took Harry’s words as encouragement, pulling the dildo out so only the thick head was stretching his rim and then pressing it back in. He fucked him with the dildo, stretching him like he said he would, and watched the boy writhe around on the duvet.

“Don’t cum yet, love,” said Niall, voice gentle and sweet but somehow still commanding.

“Please, Niall,” whined Harry, high-pitched and needy, “please ride me?”

Niall pressed the dildo into Harry so the large silicone base was pressed nearly flush against his arse cheeks.

“Gonna prep myself first, pet,” Niall told him. He found the lube and slicked his hand, reaching behind himself to press a finger to his hole. He moaned and pushed in, feeling himself stretch ever so slightly.

“Niall!” moaned Harry, desperation lacing his voice. “Please, Niall. Want to be good for you.”

Realising Harry was waiting as he’d been instructed—and that he’d been hard since they’d arrived at Niall’s flat—Niall pressed two more fingers into himself, scissoring them to stretch himself and pumping them in and out a few times before deciding he was ready.

He pulled his fingers from his hole and wiped them hastily on the bed. He found the condom he’d taken from his dresser drawer and unwrapped it, sheathing Harry’s cock quickly.

“All right, pet,” said Niall soothingly, moving to straddle Harry’s waist. Arse above Harry’s hard cock, Niall reached between his thighs to position the tip at his hole. He lowered himself onto Harry’s length, feeling every inch rubbing his stretched rim.

They moaned together when Niall was fully seated, bum resting on Harry’s hips. He rocked forward, feeling Harry’s cock pressing against his prostate, and began to grind.

“Arch your back, love,” said Niall to the boy below him, “and tip your hips forward.” Harry did, the new angle pushing the dildo deeper into his arse, and groaned. “Now swivel- swivel your hips in circles,” said Niall.

Harry again did as instructed. “Niall!” he cried, the movement rocking the dildo in and out of his arse the slightest bit.

“Yeah, pet,” moaned Niall, beginning to ride Harry in earnest, rising and falling at a fast pace. “Look at my good boy fucking himself with a dildo while I ride his big cock. So beautiful, baby.” He watched Harry through half-closed eyes. “Do ya like feeling full, love? S’it feel good?”

“Yes!” cried Harry. “Feels- feels amazing.”

“Do ya feel stretched and used?” asked Niall.

“Yes, Niall!”

“So good, letting me use you,” Niall told him, leaning down to kiss him. “Letting me fill your arse with my dildo. That’s my favourite dildo, pet,” panted Niall against Harry’s lips. “Do you like it?”

“Fuck! Yes, Niall,” moaned Harry, rocking his hips.

“Like how it stretches you out? I do,” Niall said. “Feels so good. You feel better though.”

“Niall,” whimpered Harry, soft and sweet and pleading.

“Yeah, pet, you can cum,” said Niall, capturing Harry’s lips in a deep kiss. He lifted his hips and dropped them a few more times, his own hard cock rubbing along Harry’s abs.

“Mmmhmm!” groaned Harry into Niall’s mouth and Niall pulled back and watched as Harry came undone, eyes squeezing shut tight and the fingers of one hand tangled in his wavy hair.

“Fuck!” moaned Niall, a few drops of cum streaking Harry’s tummy as he came, his own orgasm washing over him.

“Niall,” whispered Harry, lifting an arm from the mattress and reaching out to find Niall. His fingers grasped Niall’s arm and tugged. “Kisses, please?”

Niall allowed himself to be tugged, leaning down to kiss Harry with sweet, tender kisses—slow and sticky, like warm honey and butterscotch—that felt like more, that promised more.

Finally, Harry wiggled his hips and Niall dragged his lips away from Harry’s.

“Okay, pet,” he said, lifting his hips and feeling Harry’s soft length slip from his hole. He shuffled around and knelt between Harry’s legs, splayed open and weak. “Gonna be careful, love.” He took the base of the dildo in his hand and slowly pulled it out of Harry’s hole, listening to Harry’s little choked whimpers.

He stood up and went to the bathroom, leaving the dildo on the counter by the sink—a reminder to wash it in the morning—and dampening a flannel. He wiped himself clean before wetting another towel and going back to the bedroom.

Niall removed the condom from Harry’s spent cock, discarding it in the bin, and wiped him clean. With gentle hands, he dabbed at the lube on Harry’s arse and then cleaned his own cum from Harry’s tummy.

“So- you’re so lovely, Harry,” whispered Niall a few moments later, cuddled under the duvet with Harry, awestruck at the beauty beside him. He reached out and traced Harry’s cheekbone with his fingers, drawing circles at the hollows of his cheeks, and trailed his fingers over Harry’s plump bottom lip and perfect Cupid’s bow.

“Good night, kitten,” said Harry drowsily, eyes closed and face relaxed, a small smile quirking his mouth.

“Good night, Harry.”

Harry woke up in Niall’s arms, face tucked into Niall’s neck and legs tangled together. He nuzzled his nose against the warm porcelain skin of Niall’s throat and then placed tiny kisses to his freckles.

“Mmm,” sighed Niall, waking up as Harry’s lips tickled his sensitive flesh. “Morning, pet.”

“Good morning, Niall,” said Harry.

They stayed like that, wrapped together under the duvet and exchanging lazy kisses, until Niall’s stomach grumbled.

Harry giggled and Niall grinned, big and dopey and maybe in love.

“Breakfast?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, could do,” said Niall.

They got up, slipping into pants—Niall’s boxers were a bit short on Harry but Niall didn’t mind a few extra inches of Harry’s thighs on display—and heading to the kitchen to make something to eat.

A half an hour later, they sat at the breakfast bar with plates half-filled with pancakes and bacon. A second pot of Earl Grey tea sat steeping.

“Niall,” said Harry, sounding serious and a little anxious, “I want- Can we talk?”

Niall looked up from his plate, eyes wide; he felt certain that no good conversation had ever been prefaced with those words.

“Um, talk about”—he exhaled, nervous and shaky—“Sure.”

“I told you I’ve never had a boyfriend,” said Harry. He looked at Niall expectantly and Niall nodded, unsure what Harry was expecting. “I’ve never really- I’ve never really cared about, like, about having a relationship. Or, like, romance. I sort of just- I’ve always been happy on my own.”

Niall felt his heart dropping; he had a good idea where this clumsy speech was going and he just wanted Harry to finish it soon.

“I’ve always been more of, like, a friends-with-benefits kind of person, I guess,” he continued and there it was—exactly what Niall had been expecting and just what he hadn’t wanted to hear.

“Harry—”

“I really like you, Niall, and”—Harry took a deep breath—“and I know we’ve only known each other for, like, a week but… I’d really like to- I’d really like to give a relationship”—he sighed—“I think I’ve fallen for you.” He gave Niall an apologetic smile. “Will you be my boyfriend? For real this time?”

“Thought you were gonna go a different way with that,” chuckled Niall. He smiled at Harry, big and bright. “But yeah, o’ course I’ll be your boyfriend, pet.”

Harry beamed at him, his smile pressing dimples deep into his cheeks and showing too much teeth, and stood up. He walked to Niall and sat down in the boy’s lap, taking his face in his hands and peppering his little pink lips with kisses.

 

*******

“I used to be a baker,” Harry told Maura as he rolled out cookie dough.

“Really?” asked Maura, sounding impressed.

Niall looked up from the gift he was wrapping—a giant box filled with thirty-two cardboard panels that interlocked to build forts, something Harry found online and had decided was perfect for Niall’s nephew Theo—and said, “Don’t let him fool ya, Ma. He worked the till in a bakery.”

Harry shrugged and picked up a cookie cutter, stamping out a dozen gingerbread men.

“Just on the baking sheet, Harry,” said Maura with a smile.

When the cookies were finally baked and the gifts wrapped, Niall and Harry headed to Niall’s childhood bedroom to take a nap before Midnight Mass.

“The dirty things I’m gonna do to you in this room!” said Harry, crowding up against Niall as he closed the door behind them.

“Been saying that since we got here two days ago, pet.” Niall chuckled. “Not doing anything on Christmas Eve, ya filthy lad.”

“Gonna fuck you raw before Mass,” growled Harry, voice low in Niall’s ear. “Make you forget all your psalms.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “Nap with me, pet,” he said. “Got a long night o’ drinking pints with the lads after Mass.”

Harry smiled and climbed into the bed with Niall, cuddling into his arms and falling asleep, eager to experience an Irish Christmas Eve.

He learnt that Christmas Eve with the lads meant an inordinate amount of Guinness and whiskey.

He also learnt that Maura was a saint when she let them sleep until just past ten o’clock the next morning, waking up to the smell of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and coffee.

“Morning, Maura,” said Harry, walking into the kitchen with Niall and finding Bobby already sitting at the table, a plate heaped with everything he’d smelled from upstairs. “Morning, Bobby.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” Maura wrapped Harry in a hug. “I hope they didn’t make you drink too much whiskey.”

“No,” said Harry, an embarrassed sort of smile on his lips. “I just had a couple pints.”

“My sweet little lightweight,” teased Niall, ruffling Harry’s hair and sitting at the table beside his father.

Harry blushed and joined them at the table, gratefully accepting the plate of food Maura set before him.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind as Niall’s family arrived for Christmas Dinner. Everyone was pleased to see Harry there and all of the ladies cooed over how sweet Harry and Niall were together.

There was enough food, wine, beer, and liquor for the entire neighbourhood—Harry figured there were probably the same number of people in Niall’s house as there were in the rest of all of the houses in the neighbourhood combined—and Maura passed around Cadbury Christmas selection boxes after dinner.

Gifts were handed out and wrapping paper was strewn around. Harry ended up with a bit of sparkly gold ribbon tied around his neck and Niall was reminded of his pussy bow.

Harry shared a few Christmas crackers with Emma, giggling at the prizes they found inside, and Emma told Harry that Seán was missing his family’s traditional Christmas swim—Harry wasn’t sure what a Christmas swim was but decided to ask Niall about it later—before joining Niall on the sofa to watch _A Christmas Story_.

It was after everyone left that Harry finally gave Niall his gift. Niall had given Harry his present—a framed photo of them laughing at their table at the wedding that Emma had sent to Niall with a note that said, “Found this looking through the wedding photo proofs. You both look so happy and in love! xo”—earlier in the day, before all of Niall’s relatives had arrived, but Harry had asked Niall if he minded waiting until the end of the night.

Sitting together on the sofa under the solar system duvet Niall had got the summer he wanted to go to Space School UK at the University of Leicester, the lights on the Christmas tree twinkled and Maura sang along to Christmas music as she cleaned up the kitchen.

Harry handed Niall a small box wrapped in pretty red and gold paper with an oversized gold bow. He watched Niall anxiously while he opened it, taking off the top of the small box to reveal a silver Claddagh ring.

“It’s not- I’m not proposing,” said Harry quickly, rushing to explain so Niall wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Niall reached into the box and pulled out the ring, examining the little hands that held the crowned heart. “It’s beautiful, Harry.”

“You’ve got to wear it- I mean, you probably know,” said Harry, still feeling a bit nervous. “If you wear it like this”—he took the ring from Niall and slipped it onto his right ring finger, the point of the heart pointing toward Niall’s wrist—“it means you’re in a relationship.”

Niall wiped at his eyes, feeling silly for getting teary over a Claddagh ring, and smiled at Harry. “Thank you, Harry. This is- It’s very special.” He looked at Harry, then down to his hand, and then back up to Harry.

“Good,” breathed Harry. “Because I want to tell you, um. Niall, I love you. Like, I’m in love with you.”

Niall laughed a watery laugh and said quietly, a huge smile on his face, “Was wondering when you’d say that.” He looked at him with fond eyes. “I love you too.”

Harry leant forward and took Niall’s face in his hands, kissing his little pink lips, and then said, plump lips still brushing Niall’s as he spoke, “You could have said it first.”

Niall pulled back and looked at Harry, the same fondness Harry felt for Niall etched all over the lad’s face, and told him, “You’re the one never wanted a relationship before. I wanted to make sure you meant it when you said it and that you weren’t just, like, saying it back so you wouldn’t hurt me feelings.”

Harry shook his head. “I mean it. I’ve probably meant it since that day in Temple Bar when I said I wanted a cheeky pint. You looked at me like I hung the moon. I was so scared I didn’t know what to say.” He laughed. “Told you to stop looking at me like I was a silly twit for wanting a cheeky pint.”

“Nothin’ silly about wanting a cheeky pint,” Niall told him with a smile, remembering the exact moment Harry was talking about and just how he’d felt in that moment.

“Come here,” said Harry, pulling Niall into his lap and covering his face with kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://littlemissmeggie.tumblr.com/) and say hi!
> 
> comments and kudos are always so appreciated!


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